


Natural Selection

by Precursor



Series: I Am Alive [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Crime Fighting, Crime Scenes, Divorce, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Marriage, Miscarriage, Non-Consensual, Sex, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-01-06 08:16:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 30,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18384533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Precursor/pseuds/Precursor
Summary: Every love story has a beginning.  A moment where everything feels right...And you would learn that every love storyalsohas a pivot - a tipping point where those happy memories come crashing down intragedy.





	1. Part I: The Modern Synthesis

**Author's Note:**

> **[A Prequel to[Deviant Behavior]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14851244/chapters/34379699)**

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   
>    
>  **Initiating Memory Relay...**   
>    
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _"One general law, leading to the advancement of all organic beings, namely; multiply, vary, let the strongest live and the weakest die.”_  
>    
>  \- Charles Darwin
> 
>   
>    
> 

* * *

* * *

 t was one of those days where it took everything you had to get out of bed.  From the shitty weather outside, to the strands of hair that would just _not_ stay in place…all the way down to the matching clothes you _couldn’t_ seem to find…

It’d taken a lot of motivation from the jackass who kept yawning next to you to get you to go to class.

“Where _is_ she…” Anthony covered his mouth, “That old rule still apply?”

“What rule…?” You answered dully, yawning back in a reactionary response.

“The one where when the professor doesn’t show up within 10 minutes, you can leave…etc, etc.”

“I don’t think that one ever _existed,_ Tony.”

“I’ll ask my business law prof after practice.”

“You do that.”

The room was hot and humid, the windows frosting over from the heat the 30 bodies in the room gave off.  You wiped your forehead with your sleeve, debating on taking your jacket off.  Was too cold outside to leave without one, too hot inside to keep it on.

Professor Brousseau finally walked through the door.  She seemed frazzled, her thermos shaking in one hand and her books slipping out of her arm.  She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, taking her stance at her desk before rearranging the notes in front of her.

She cleared her throat, sighing at the long whiteboard – looking to the side.

“There’s been a change of plans, today.”

Instead of beginning her rampant scribbling of notes, she pulled down the projector screen.

“Ugh…” Anthony groaned, “You know, after reading her reviews on RateMyProfessor, I never would’ve thought she’d be the type to make us watch movies because she doesn’t feel like teaching.”

You shrugged, “I’m not complaining.”

You leaned on your elbow, supporting your chin with your palm.  You began scrolling through social media feeds, sharing memes and lurking posts.

You nudged Anthony, “Holy shit – look at this.”

“What?”  He leaned in, looking at your laptop’s screen, “Oh…Jesus…Another one of those ‘wah I hate my boyfriend’ posts.  Why do people make that shit public?”

“I dunno.  Look who it is, though.”

“Is that…Oh shit! No way-“

His ex-girlfriend.

“Good.  I hope she’s absolutely _miserable._ ”

You laughed, covering your mouth, “Tell me how you really feel.”

“Tch…that bitch.”  He crossed his arms, leaning back, “Serves her…uh.” His brows furrowed, “The hell?”

You looked up, a blue circle spinning as a loading screen.  Professor Brousseau dimmed the lights, walking in front of the projected image to leave a silhouette imprinted behind her.

“By now, I’m sure you’ve all heard about the exciting developments coming out of Colbridge University’s artificial intelligence division…”

Your throat tightened.  You and Anthony shared a look, the two of you in sync as tension built between you.

“We have someone here who would like to speak with you on those controversial topics.”

She pushed her glasses up, pursing her lips.  She was not happy about this.

Any proper anthropology professor probably _wouldn’t_ be okay with this, given the context.

“May I introduce to you Elijah Kamski…a former resident from our area.”

That tension you and Anthony shared sky-rocketed.

“What…in the actual…fuck.”  He whispered, “Is this really happening right now?”

“I…” You blinked yourself awake, stunned and immobilized, “Sure as fuck hope not.”

But it was, and there was nothing you could do about it.  Couldn’t get up and leave the room.  Couldn’t make a run for it.

Anthony sank in his seat, pulling his hood up in an effort to hide his face.  Your fingertips drummed on the desk, riddled with anxiety.  Except Elijah seemed _more_ nervous than you.

He gave the room a shy nod, and a quaint wave.  Fumbled while fastening the microphone to his shirt, obviously not comfortable with public speaking.  Surveyed the people in the lecture hall…worry and fear clipping through his grey, somber gaze…

Through all those people, through all those faces – he landed on _yours._

His shoulders rose and fell, a visible sigh leaving him.  A _genuine_ smile hinted on his lips, his eyes now gleaming with excitement.

“Man,” Anthony chuckled, “Did he ugly duckling that shit or _what?”_

“Shh-“ You kicked his leg.

“What?  I’m just saying he’s not the scrawny fuck he was when his family bounced.”

“Yeah, he’s hot – ask him for his number or whatever.”

“Not my type.”

You huffed, “What _is_ your type?”

“Uh…women?”

The microphone cut on, and the two of you went quiet.

“Good morning, everyone.  As Professor Brousseau has so kindly introduced me, my name is Elijah Kamksi, an artificial intelligence graduate student from Colbridge University.”

Whispers in the hall snowballed into audience chatter, and silenced after the first slide popped up on his presentation.

“Today, we’re going to discuss our most recent innovation…a _true_ artificial intelligence program capable of holding conversations, just like we are right now.”

It’d been leaked a few weeks ago, with his name in the footnotes.  Had turned the world on its head, and sent the media into a frenzy like a school of piranhas.  People were scared of it.  Those _above_ the “lowly commoners” of society were _enthralled_ by it, eager to throw their money at the school to make the _idea_ a _reality._

“By the end of this presentation, I hope to nullify any worries you might have about this endeavor…and answer any questions you might have.”

He clicked his button again, and bulleted notes appeared.

“First, we’re going to start with the morality of creating a truly intelligent, artificial mind…”

 

…

 

The new, _subtle_ accent to his words and general enthusiasm made it impossible to turn your attention.  He kept everyone hanging on by a thread as he proceeded, ramping up the possibilities of such technology with each click of a button.  His hands had moved as he spoke.  His body rocked in place under each point he’d make.

He was _captivating._

And when it was over, he could barely keep up with the questions.

“Alright, one more…”

He scanned the audience, adjusting his glasses as the overhead lights blinded him.  Your hand had been raised since the Q & A began, and he’d skimmed over it countless times.

A game he was playing, for sure.

“Yes, you.  In the back.”

Until he finally pulled the trigger.

Anthony ran a hand down his face, knowing what was coming.  Both of you had bounced ideas off each other about this topic when it’d released.  He was against it, and so were you – but for _very_ different reasons.

“What is your question, miss…?”

You said your last name, a smirk marking the end, “And my question to you is…how can we guarantee such an advanced artificial program won’t overthrow the human population once it’s sold commercially?”

He huffed through his nose.  His fingers danced with each other, hands folded in front of him.  He adjusted his stance, leaning backwards – eyes flitting from the floor up to you in a narrowed stare like he was just _beckoning_ you into some third dimension of secret knowledge.

“We’re going through all the proper channels to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“And what would those be?”

He sucked his teeth, “I’m afraid we’re out of time.”

“Mhm…” Your challenge was muffled by the closing of books, rustling of papers, and closing of laptop lids.

“Thank you all for your time today.  Please take the survey e-mailed to your student accounts, and feel free to leave any more _questions_ in the space reserved for commentary…”

His eyes never left yours as he spoke.

“Ugh…” Anthony shrugged his book bag strap over his shoulder, “Just go fucking talk to him and get it over with.”

You tore your gaze away, “What?”

“I know you, and I know what you’re thinking.”

“I’m not-“

“He’s watching you.”

Your face got hot, “Shut up, no he’s not-“  You checked, and he totally was.

You dodged the speechless interaction, looking back to Anthony, “Help-“

He gave you a _devious_ grin, one corner of his mouth pinned to the side, “You want me to help, eh?”

“Wait, no, I changed my mind-“

But he’d already hooked your arm, shoving past other students and dragging you along behind him.

“Pardon me, excuse me, coming through-“

When you’d finally descended the stairs, Elijah had pretended not to notice.  Had kept packing all his notes in a briefcase, that shred of anxiety returning to his features.

“Hey, Eli.” Anthony cheerfully called out, “Long time no see.”

He looked up.  Pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“A few years, give or take...How have you guys been?”

Internally, you were a mess.  If there was ever a day to not show up _looking_ like a total mess, it would’ve been today.

“Nothing but trouble.  You know how it is.”  Anthony gave an innocent smile.

“Hah,” Eljiah snickered, “Now _that_ I do remember.”

“Yeah…it’s a miracle we’re all still alive.”

“Indeed.”

He bit the inside of his cheek as he switched to you, opening his mouth to say something – but the words never came out.

“Anyway, I’ll have to catch up with you guys later.  Football is still on, and I’ve gotta get ready to roll around in the mud.  This one, however…” He elbowed you, giving you a wink over a snicker, “Is done for the day.”

“Wait, you’re leaving?” You ignored his taunt, “Why-are-you-“

“See ya!” He waved, and your internal freak-out escalated to DEFCON 1.

You looked back to Elijah.  His face was red – probably matching yours in a perfect shade of embarrassment.  As the students left the room, and the professor said her goodbyes, silence was closing in on you.  It was either start talking now, or be the one to _break_ that silence, later.

“Your, uh…presentation was really good.”  You smiled nervously.

“T-thank you.” He froze, “I would’ve told you and Tony I was coming to town, it was all so sudden.”

“Don’t sweat it!” You said _way_ too enthusiastically, “I understand.”

A thought dawned on you, “Sudden, you say?”

“Yes…First it was meetings and practicing my internship, and then somehow I was on a plane back home.”

You snorted, “Probably some PR or whatever…the media hasn’t stopped burning Colbridge in the headlines since-“

You could tell he was uncomfortable, that it was a soft spot – raw and untreated.  And you’d just twisted the knife.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-“

“No, no…you’re right.  I’m not dismissing the fact that my colleagues have an insensitive way of releasing rather _sensitive_ , information…and tomorrow they have me flying to New York City, doing this  _all_ over again…”

He dug around in his bag, eyes flickering to you and back to his rummaging hands.

“I…Had a few hours to kill, on my flight.  18, to be precise.”

He retrieved a book.  One that’d been your lending hand when all those around you had only wanted to _take._ A piece of literature containing life’s most critical lessons – those of which you’d reviewed countless times, and could recite word for word.

“Do you remember this?” He smiled, a twinkle in his eyes, “You gave it to me right before I left.”

You’d never forget that day.  Elijah as a young man, with a book bag slung over his shoulder and tears held back over his reddened cheeks.  He’d always been fearful of the unknown, unaware that there was a world existing outside the realm of physics and mathematics.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to read it, but when they told me where I’d be headed…it reminded me.”

 _Beyond Good and Evil,_ by Fredrich Nietzsche.  The book that had reminded _you_ that it was okay to not understand _everything_.

“I wasn’t even sure if you still lived here…but in any case…” Elijah muttered, pushing his glasses back up to his face with a finger, “I’m glad you do.  Now, I can give you this back in person.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat.  Gave him a meek smile and tried to voice your appreciation as you reached for your once prized possession.  But he pulled it away, just over his shoulder.

“Unless, of course, you’re free this evening to discuss some of the more…complex, concepts.”

Yours eyes shot open, and his narrowed again like he’d caught you in a trap.

“Maybe over dinner?”

The teeth had snapped, locking you in place.  Your anxiety shot through the roof, nervously twiddling your fingers after tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

“I, uh…”

You couldn’t get your _shit_ together.

“S-sure.  When did you, uhm…have in mind?”

He sighed in relief, checking his watch.

“Well, it’s only 12 in the afternoon…I have a few more lectures booked, but I should be finished by 6.  Does that work for you?”

“Yes-“ You answered too quickly, “I mean…of course.  Did you have a place in mind?”

“Ah, well…the restaurant in my hotel did pique my interest.  Are you familiar with the Illustrious?”

Your mouth dropped, and you pulled it shut.

It was an extremely luxurious hotel, right in the suburbs.  Easily outside of your weekly budget, just for _one night._

“I am…I’ll, uh, meet you there.”

“I could pick you up, if you’d like.”

“I’d prefer to drive myself, if that’s okay…”

He grinned, “Absolutely.  I’d be no gentleman if I didn’t offer...”

Elijah opened a notebook.  Scribbled something down, tore off a piece of paper and handed it to you.

It was his phone number.

“…It’s a date, then.”

A first date with a man who was a child when you’d _last_ seen him…

But you weren’t children, anymore.

And as he finished packing his things, as you left the room in nothing short of a restrained sprint…

You wondered what _adult_ conversations this night would lead to.

 

* * *

 

**Behind the Scenes**

 

* * *

 

[The Modern Synthesis](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Extended_evolutionary_synthesis)

[Natural Selection](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Natural_selection)

[Inspired by "Here With You" by Lost Frequencies](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8LWlgvr4ti8)

[Corresponds with Chapter 78: ...Resurget Cineribus (Deviant Behavior)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14851244/chapters/36074298)

_(The hour of noon - 12pm)_

_(The blue ring on the presentation)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Archiving Memory_001...**


	2. Radioactive Dating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Inquiry: Where did it begin?**   
>  **Posting results...**

ou’d spent hours putting clothes on, looking in the mirror, and ripping them off to make way for new options.  Now, you'd been sitting in the parking lot for 30 minutes – dressed your best while still trembling within your own skin.  The hot breath venting from your body met the cold from outside, leaving a film of fog glossing over your window as they kissed.

It’d been a while since you shook this bad as an aftermath of loose nerves.

 

To: Dickhart

I shouldn’t have said yes.  I can’t do this.  I just pulled up and I am freaking the fuck out.

Message Sent

 

Dickhart

Today 6:15PM

Would you calm the fuck down?  It’s dinner with a friend you grew up with.

 

To: Dickhart

Anthony we haven’t seen each other since I was like 14!  AND HE CALLED IT A DATE!

Message Sent

 

Dickhart

Today 6:16PM

You didn’t tell me that…

 

To: Dickhart

I knew you’d try to talk me out of it.

Message Sent

 

Dickhart

Today 6:16PM

Gee, I wonder why?

 

To:Dickhart

Tony, I just don’t know what to do rn.  I know I want to go inside, but…idk.  Ughhh.

Message Sent

 

Dickhart

Today 6:17PM

It doesn’t matter what I say.  You’re going to do what you want anyway.

 

Dickhart

Today 6:18PM

Just do me a favor and check in, okay?  And for the love of fuck be careful.

 

Dickhart

Today 6:19PM

He still creeps me out.

 

To: Dickhart

I will.  Thanks Tony <3

Messenger Sent

 

Dickhart

Today 6:19PM

Don’t thank me yet.  There’s still time for you to be skinned alive and turned into a lamp shade.

 

Dickhart

Today 6:20PM

I think your skin tone would match my curtains…

 

You rolled your eyes, closing your phone.  Locked it, and stowed it away.  Checked the rear-view mirror one more time, sighing as you popped the lock and opened an umbrella.

It was just a date…nothing more, nothing less.

Harmless.

Right?

 

…

 

The restaurant had its own entrance.  A canopy cover, with its name scribbled in old, classic writing.

_“La Perla Blanca”_

You’d read about it in one of those magazines that showed pictures of _tourist_ attractions that the _locals_ couldn’t afford.

During the week, it was a high-class dining experience with an open floor plan and chefs imported from around the world.

On the weekends...it was a nightclub that attracted both right and wrong attention.

Luckily, you didn’t have to worry about that tonight.  It was, however, _packed._

A loud, multi-toned laugh came from a group of businesspeople at the bar; bottles glowing in front of LEDs shining behind the outline of a ship.  An older couple discussed politics in the corner, their utensils hitting their plates as they laughed at Senator Warren’s fumble during her presidential campaign.

Everything was modern, and posh.  Even the _air_ smelled expensive.

“Hello!” A hostess greeted you, dressed in black with a cerulean nametag, “My name is Leia.  May I take you to a table, or are you waiting for someone?”

“I’m...” You held a clutch with both hands, squeezing it for dear life, “I’m meeting someone.”

You were out of your element.  Out of place, and it was obvious.

“May I ask who?”

She pulled up a grid on a touchscreen tablet, ready to input a name.

“Elijah Kamski.”

Her practiced customer service persona faltered.  She had to blink herself back from wherever her mind went, and she nodded.

“Right this way, please...”

She had already known where he was seated.

It appeared his name held more influence than the seductive atmosphere of _La Perla Blanca_...

An interesting development - one you weren’t sure if you wanted to be a part of.

 

…

 

After you’d finally gained the courage look up, you’d seen Elijah waiting for you.  A warm smile had stretched across his face.  His eyes had been _beaming._ But when you’d taken your seat across from him, in a booth amidst the lavish setting…he’d been thrown off.

The assurance in his voice had fled.  He’d been a stuttering mess, fidgeting and finding difficulty concentrating.  He’d looked at his food like it was an escape, and the meal had been uncomfortably silent…

But after a few glasses of wine, the conversation flowed easily.

“I pass this building all the time, but…this, being here, this is pretty nice.”  You said.

“A little much for an overnight stay, but I’m not complaining.  I’m also not the one paying for it, so…”

“Beggers can’t be choosers, right?”

The trail went cold.  Although, there was something else on your mind that deserved complimentary words…you knew they always made him feel awkward.

“You look nice.”  Your eyes fluttered.

“Thank you.  This is what I was _supposed_ to wear today…”

“But you opted for a hoodie and jeans?”

“I’m not very high-maintenance.  You know that.”

He cleared his throat, pulling at the collar of his button-up shirt, “You, also look…amazing.”

“Heh,” Your face started heating up, and you tried to course-correct the awkward grin making a second, ugly appearance, “Thanks-“

You were freezing up.  Your internal calming devices were working overtime.

“How were the rest of your lectures?”

You changed the subject, not ever being one to take compliments very well, either.  Your plan backfired – bad.

“They were…trying.”  Eljah spun his glass, both hands around the base of the cup.

He heaved a heavy sigh, watching the red liquid dance up and down the curved sides.

“Oh…?”

“The questions got harder and harder to answer after the first lecture.  It started with…your, question…” His eyes jumped to yours for only a second, with a flicker of _anger_ before it dissipated, “…And I suppose that got people _talking.”_

“Oh,” You snorted, hanging an elbow over the back of your seat, crossing your legs, and hooking your fingers together, “So they were ‘trying’ questions because they didn’t pertain to programming and manufacturing?”

“That…” He sucked his teeth, “Is _one_ way to put it.”

“And don’t you find it alarming that the questions regarding the future, and safety, of humanity are the hardest ones to answer?”

“Look,” He licked his lips, planting an elbow on the table before angling a flattened hand at you, “I meant what I said about going through the proper channels.  This artificial intelligence would be refined to preprogrammed instructions.  Written _orders.”_

“Then what’s the point of creating an artificial intelligence if you’re just going to shackle it?”

“Because I’m trying to reinvent the _wheel.”_

But all that irritation, frustration, and misdirected anger found a different route.  It left room for excitement, and he became _animated._

“Imagine a machine that you could talk to about personal issues that you were too embarrassed to approach another human being about.  That machine wouldn’t judge you.  Wouldn’t point out your flaws.  None of that.”  He squinted, almost like he was trying to figure out if you were actually listening – or gearing up for a counter, “You’ve always been one for philosophy, obviously…Do you remember when you first tried to talk to me about it?”

“Sure do.” You huffed, “You shut me down every chance you had.”

“Right.  What if there was a machine you could have conversed with?”

You thought about the time where he’d sent you a text.  He canceled plans the two of you had.

After that, you’d gone to his house, been greeted by his mother…went to his room, sat down on the floor, and read.

You didn’t say a word.  He didn’t want to talk.  So you just read a book, like you’d grown accustomed to – just keeping him company.

It wasn’t until later that he started asking questions, but…

He’d come out of that shitty mood, eventually.  Philosophy became something the two of you would bond and hypothesize over while he told his parents he was studying for tests that he never _needed_ to study for.

“…Then I’d have missed the opportunity to spend a lot of time with you.” You shrugged, “We probably wouldn’t be here, right now.”

You lifted your chin, nodding at the book on the table; the one that laid as a great divide.

He was stumped, “You’ve always been good at this…”

“Good at what?”

Elijah took a nervous sip of water, an odd thing considering there was more wine to be had.

“Throwing me for a loop.”

You shook your head, observing the other people in the restaurant while you spoke, “You have a measured IQ of 171.  You’re the youngest student Colbridge has ever had.  You-“

“Are still unable to keep up with that brain of yours, no matter what the circumstances might be.”

Your focus swiveled back to him, his words leaving needles and pins in your heart.

“And…still unable to decode this text of riddles and whispers of tongues.”  He rolled his eyes, his cheek landing in the palm of his hand.

You smirked, giving him a tsk-tsk under your breath, “’I obviously do everything to be ‘hard to understand,’ myself.’”

“…What?”

“It’s a quote from the book.  Nietzsche is saying that one’s attempt to be _unable_ to be understood is to negate another’s attempt to understand you, altogether.”

“Why doesn’t he just say that, then?

“It’s not meant to be read literally, Elijah.” You chuckled, “This is why you’re having such a hard time with this!”

“Are you honestly surprised that an artificial intelligence major is taking philosophy too literally?”

“No, not really. Well, actually…” You toyed with the idea, looking at the ceiling in a teasing manner, “There’s just as much philosophy in science as there is in literature.  It’s just presented in undertones and theories.”

And then your eyes leveled with his.

They zeroed in like lenses as he rolled up his sleeves, crossing his arms on the table, “How so?”

“Because there’s a lot more to the world than technology and statistics.”

Holding a glass of wine to your lips, your brows jumped, and you gave him a quick nod, “You’re trying to create a perfect copy of the human brain, but you only understand one half of it.”

You put your own elegant spin on things, but it was a taunt.  A flirtatious challenge against the greatest mind of your time…

And he _fell_ for it.

“Enlighten me.”

 

…

 

You’d ended up on his side of the table, leaning into him as the two of you discussed each passage that had left him baffled… _if_ you could get him to pay attention.  He’d get lost in this…daze, staring at you in a stupor of awe.  Serendipity.  _Adoration_.

“’How could anything originate out of its opposite? For example, truth out of error? Or a generous deed out of selfishness?’”

He opened his mouth to ask a question, but you pressed your fingers to his lips and shook your head.

“’Such genesis is possible,’” You released him, his eyes trailing your finger as it went back to the page, “’Things of the highest value must have a different origin, an origin of their own.  In the concealed God, in the ‘Thing-in-Itself.’  There, must be their source, and nowhere else…’”

At some point during the lesson, he’d gotten closer.  His arm had stretched along the length of the booth, hovering above your shoulders, resting on the metal divider between cushions.

You were guilty of moving in, your elbow brushing against his side whenever you’d lean in to look at a string of words.  A kiss conjured from fantasies and tension lingered just out of reach every time you’d look up, his eyes darting to your smile for fleeting seconds before reuniting with yours.

“What do you think that means?”  You asked, breaking the silence.

“Nietzsche is saying...that you cannot find answers in anti-answers.  And when he says that there is a concealed God, I can only stipulate that he means that is the ‘thing of the highest value,’ found in oneself.  No, no…” He planted his chin between his thumb and index finger, rubbing at his light beard, “He says, ‘such genesis is possible…’ Ah, I see.  Something can only come from its opposite when you play the hand of God, since God is within us – but you and I both know he’s not _actually_ talking about God, so…”

“Not God as a higher power, no.  But our ‘godly’ capabilities, if you know what I mean.  Our decision-making skills based on what is right, what is wrong – our _freedom_ to live our life as we choose.”

He nodded, taking another swig of wine, “So I was correct?”

“Yes, but he explains it in a rather…simplified, manner.”

Elijah huffed, “How ‘simplified,’ can he really get?  Let’s be honest.”

“’To recognize untruth as a condition of life…That which is certain to dispute the traditional ideas of value in a dangerous manner…” You grinned, tracing his jaw with the back of your hand, “‘Has thereby alone, placed itself beyond good and evil.’”

Your heart skipped beats.  Your eyes glazed over.  The hairs on the back of your neck were razor-sharp, cutting at your inhibited _inhibitions_.

“You still do that thing you do when you get nervous…” He swiped your forehead, taming loose hairs, “It’s cute.”

Your throat tightened.  Your fingernails dug in to the fabric of the seat.  You thought your chest would implode.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve had a conversation with someone that didn’t revolve around cybernetics and biological transfer processes…” He had you hooked, caught in his snare, “I’ve enjoyed this.  I needed it more than I can tell you.”

“Me too.  Thanks for having the balls to ask me out.”

He chuckled, shaking his head, “It…wasn’t easy.”

“Really? You made it _look_ easy.”

“I don’t think anyone would find it anything less than difficult to keep their composure together in the presence of such an intelligent and beautiful woman.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, wondering if that was your tell.  An unconscious motion that you hoped was just hidden enough to keep your reservations away from prying eyes.

“I hope this wasn’t a catastrophe of a first date.”  
Your eyes popped open, “F…first?”

He gave you a nervous smile – a cleaved laugh, tugging on his collar with his finger in a way that was so adorably cliché that it was almost _cringeworthy_.

“Maybe it’s just wishful thinking…considering what could’ve been if my family and I hadn’t moved to England.  We didn’t leave on the most amicable terms…”  He sighed, “But if I’m ever around again…I’d really like to see you.”

“I’d like that too, Elijah.”

The two of you shared a _panicked_ laugh, then. 

“I’m not good at this at all, am I?”  He frowned.

You fidgeted in your seat, trying to reel in the confidence that you’d displayed as a farce – some untapped version of yourself that wanted to shine through, but didn’t have enough light.

“Good enough to…throw me for a loop.”

You chalked it up to being young, and naive.  Something you never believed yourself to be, but knew undoubtedly that some of life’s lessons would come with time.  In that booth, on that night – kissing a man who’d always been the one to get away…

You lost yourself in that young reflection of innocent infatuation.

Life was too short to worry about the consequences of one’s actions.  And although you felt the eyes of those in the restaurant watching on as you allowed yourself to be consumed in impulsive, _public_ affection…

You held on to a feeling you didn’t expect to find tonight.

“The restaurant closes in an hour…” You broke away from him long enough to recite the information you’d read on the hotel’s website, “But, my understanding is that checkout isn’t until 11AM tomorrow morning.”

It was naive and impulsive.  Reckless.  But something _else_ that had yet to age, and learn the valuable lesson of restraint.

“The night is still young, _Elijah…”_

There was a new glint in his eyes.  A darker smile than the others that’d been relayed through nervous tension and awkward conversation – through lust and budding _love._

He finished his wine, and called for the check.  Cocked a grin as he nodded to the book on the table, and your half-filled glass resting next to it.

“’Swallow your poison…for you will need it _badly.’”_

 

* * *

 

**Behind the Scenes**

 

* * *

 

[Radioactive Dating](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Radiometric_dating)

[La Perla Blanca - Rainbow Six Siege (Pictures)](https://rainbowsix.fandom.com/wiki/Coastline)

_(Remember this restaurant's name for Afterburn)_

[The Wall Video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XjF7LPcy3p0&fbclid=IwAR18Clg4K9JLFGOsCZCdCJ_i2MEcQlqgC0LYwPcMFAp2jSkLFwqYImEp5HE)

_(This was the result of a conversation between Matt and I in regards to Senator Warren's "fumble"...he asked if she wanted to build a wall-)_

[Corresponds with Chapter 10: Shades of Color (Deviant Behavior)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14851244/chapters/34611792)

_(The Free Spirit)_

[Corresponds with Chapter 12: Beyond Good and Evil (Deviant Behavior)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14851244/chapters/34647575#workskin)

_(Chapter readings of Beyond Good and Evil)_

*In this chapter, we see reader causing Elijah's first cause for concern regarding her "questioning" of things and how her IDEAS spread like WILDFIRE.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Archiving Memory_002...**


	3. Spontaneous Generation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Fast-forwarding...**   
>  **Events compiled.**

hings had started spiraling since the night where you’d ignored Anthony’s warning, ripping off Elijah’s clothes instead of your own in an effort to make yourself more appealing.  Since you were pinned underneath him for hours, and then laughing _next to_ him, _talking_ to him in a haze of ecstasy – a cycle that’d repeated itself until the sun came up and he had to leave to catch his flight.

That was three months ago.

Three months of sweet phone calls, mushy texts, and late-night video calls that kept you up until 5 hours before you had to either go to class or work.

Adjusting to a different time zone was an unexpected result of your reunion with Elijah Kamski.  It wasn’t often that one felt jet lagged while not physically traveling anywhere _new_.  But your schedule revolved around his, something you justified by telling yourself that his work was more important.  Someone had to give, and that person had been _you._

And all of it, the constant communication, the tired “I love you’s” and the falling asleep with a phone pinned between your cheek and the pillow – it had all abruptly _stopped_.

For 16 hours, there’d been nothing but radio silence.

“Maybe he met someone else?” Anthony shrugged, washing dishes next to you, “He’s always had attachment issues.  You remember when he was with that girl…what was her name?”

You checked to see if your manager was around.  He always hated it when the two of you gossiped on the clock.  Luckily, today was a slow day at _Mozzie’s Sunny Side Diner_ , or just _Mozzie’s_ for anyone who didn’t hate themselves to say the whole damn thing every time they talked about it.

“Rebecca…” You sighed, “Her name was Rebecca.”

“Yeah. Her. He was borderline controlling before she finally dipped out.”

There had been a period of time after Elijah left the United States that he still kept in touch with you and Anthony, keeping you updated on current events in his life, even if you cared more than your friend.  Anthony barely responded in the group chat, and if he did, it was never more than a few words.  Elijah never said anything about it, but you wondered if that was part of the reason the updates slowly stopped coming altogether.

You’d taken it personally, at first.  Like what you had to say wasn’t good enough to keep him around.  Eventually, you’d chalked it up to Elijah just being busy.

“Okay, but she left _him_.” You pulled the brakes on the memory train, bringing yourself back to the present, “Not the other way around.”

“Well…sure, but…for as long as they were together, he didn’t seem to care, now did he?”

You scrubbed harder, the soap draining from the sponge in your raw hands, “He was like, 16.  We were all different back then.”  You turned the faucet off, drying your palms on your pants, “When you’re trying to change the world, you don’t have time to get hung up on girls, Tony.”

“Jesus…listen to you.” He swiped his forehead with the back of his wrist, “You just proved my point.”

You’d been sacrificing so much to meet Elijah’s every need, or want.  Woke up at 1 or 2AM just to say good morning.  _Anything._   And this was the first time that he’d dropped off the radar, but it had you in a tailspin.

You knew it was ridiculous, that with a life like his – he couldn’t afford distractions.  You’d held on to some sliver of hope that this, whatever it was between you and Elijah, had been _more._

“Guess I did.  You’re right.”  But that hope was quickly diminishing, “No one like him could ever want to get seriously involved with someone like me…I’m a waitress working on an associate’s, for fuck’s sake.”

“Goddamn it,” Anthony dropped the rest of his bin under the sink, turning to face you with his wrist on his hip – fingers dripping with water, “You know that’s not what I meant.”  His nose twitched, something that only happened when he was _really_ pissed, “He’s an idiot.  Anyone who really appreciated you wouldn’t go and ghost you like that.  Fuck him.”

“Hmph.”  You huffed through your nose, “Been there, done that…”

“No…Please tell me you didn’t-“ Anthony barked your name, “Tell me you didn’t do it…”

“Why do _you_ care?”  You crossed your arms.

“Because I know you, and I know how hard you fall and how fast it happens.  I’ve been around for a long time, you know.”

Max, the restaurant’s owner – a short Australian man who had a walk of someone twice his height, rounded the corner.  You and Tony quickly turned to the sink, picking up where you left off with your cleaning duties.

“Look, Tony…” You whispered once Max was out of earshot, “Just trust me, okay?”

He was zoning out.  Didn’t look at you, didn’t bat an eyelid…he was just totally lost in thought; thoughts you didn’t want him to share.

“Please?” You frowned.

“It’s not you I don’t trust…”

He finally blinked himself out of it, turning to give you his signature, stern look that you hadn’t seen in the longest time.

“It’s _him.”_

 

…

 

Anthony had gone home for the night, and you were stuck with the glorious closing shift.  Business hadn’t picked up – it had somehow gotten _slower._   You sat on the cooler, your apron tied around your waist, slip-resistant shoes propped up on empty milk crates.  No matter how many texts you sent, none of them went through.  Phone calls were sent immediately to voicemail up until two hours ago.

And still, _nothing._

“Hey,” Max cut the word short, shooting a thumb over his shoulder.

You jumped, almost dropping your phone – catching it before it hit the floor.

“Ain’t payin’ ya to scroll on your mobile.  Got a live one out there.  Give ‘em some warm Mozzie service, eh?”

“Yes, sir.” You shuffled your phone in your pocket, “I’m sorry, I just ran out of things to do-“

“Yeah, yeah…could help me get rid of these damn pests.” He waved his hand, swatting at a few flies who hadn’t fallen for the sticky bait hanging from the ceiling, “Bloody bastards-“

You grabbed your notepad, putting your head down to march out of the kitchen towards the empty row of booths.  There was a single person sitting in one, a piece of luggage resting on the floor on a pair of wheels.  You complained silently – not feeling like making coffee for a weary traveler.

Damn thing always gave you problems.

“Hello, welcome to-“

You stopped, finding a face that you’d seen more in digital projections and computer screens more than you had in person, as of late.  He had dark-brown hair that was almost black, shaved on both sides, with the thickness pulled back in a wide streak.

Two crystal-blue eyes like moonstones that’d captured your heart the first time you’d seen them as a young adult.  They looked great behind glasses.

“What in the _fuck_ are you doing here?”

Elijah pushed a breath through his nose, taking _off_ his glasses to clean them with the bottom of his shirt, “Good evening to you, too…”

His stupid, bloodshot eyes _still_ looked great.

“Don’t ‘good evening’ me-“ You lowered your voice to a harsh whisper, feeling Max’s gaze through the kitchen window, “You could’ve told me you were-“ You swallowed a lump, “I thought you were-“

“I’m sorry, really – I thought it would be a nice surprise, but…after reading your texts, I feel horrible.  I wanted to give you an explanation in person-“

“Start talking, then.”  You said through gritted teeth.

Your anger seemed to both scare him, and excite him.  Being able to lash him with fiery words in person was something you’d been only dreaming of during the last, _excruciating_ hours of not knowing what was going on.

“I just…I…” His shoulders dropped, and his eyes darted across the tabletop like he was looking for invisible answers, “I don’t even know where to start.”

His hands buried themselves in his bag next to him, pulling out a long tube that was scratched to all hell.  A white cylinder with a pop-top, marked with black scuffs and other signs of daily use.  What he slipped out from it, though…they were blueprints.  Schematics.  Mechanical versions of the human heart, joints – real Frankenstein shit that was borderline disturbing, all marked with “COLBRIDGE CONFIDENTIAL – EYES ONLY.”

He wasn’t supposed to be showing you them.

“This artificial intelligence program…I couldn’t figure out how I could get it into a machine that would function like I needed it to.  Which kind of appliance I wanted to bring to life…”

It wasn’t until he started talking that you realized he was more than a weary traveler.  The scuffs under _his_ eyes were dark, too – signs of daily use over canvas skin pulled tight around a frame that’d lost a few pounds since you’d seen it last.

“After I came here, and we had dinner…I had a revelation when I got home.” His fingers traced a line, skipping over the hand-written numbers and calculations, “The ‘Thing-in-Itself.’  Us.  Humans.  The answer’s been right in front of me all along, and I-“

“Slow down,” You shook your head, trying to rattle your thoughts back into place, “You’re talking about building an actual _human?”_

“No, not quite.  Not _yet_ …I, I honestly don’t _know_ where this is going.”  He looked at you, silently begging for mercy for unknown reasons, “But you reminded me that overthinking things can slow down **progress**.  We have a perfectly functioning system in ourselves.  There’s been plenty of research done on that system, making it easier to replicate, and blueprint.  These - they’re called biocomponents, and they wouldn’t have come to fruition without you, because…”

He lost the business-proposal tone.  Reeled it in, and his cold demeanor opened the doors for warmth you’d gravitated towards.

“…You’re my _muse.”_

Your hands trembled; your neck snaked back.  The corner of your mouth convulsed, your teeth snapping together.  You’d reacted as if it was an insult, but in truth, it was just…unexpected.

“And that’s why I’m here…to ask you to come _back_ with me to England.”

You dropped the notepad that’d been shaking in your grip, the pages fluttering as the cardboard backing hit the floor.  You saw Max’s head turn out of your peripherals, and you dropped to the floor – picking it up and taking a seat across from Elijah.  It wasn’t so much as to pretend you were busy, but you weren’t sure if your knees were reliable to keep you on your feet.

“Eli…” You murmured, “I can’t just leave…I have school to finish, a job, I have a _life_ here-”

“I know how much I’m asking of you…but it would only be for a few months, and I will respect whatever you decide to do after that.  _Please.”_

He put his forearms on the table.   Held his hands out with his palms facing up, a reciprocal for _yours._ He squeezed them so, so hard-

“I _need_ you if I’m going to do this.”

Elijah leaned in, looking at you from over the top rim of his glasses.

“Together, we can change _everything._ ”

As romantic as it was, and as much you wanted to slip your foot in the glass slipper like so many of the fairy tales you’d read, this was reality.  And reality required _means_ to live a fantasy.

“I can’t afford to-“

“I’ve already arranged it.  I pulled extra hours for _weeks_ to save up for this…That’s why I haven’t been as communicative.  There is ‘no one else,’ like you said in your last text.  I promise.”

He had that in his back pocket.  He _meant_ it.  You could see it in his eyes, in the way his face flushed, in the fatigue etched on his face.  He was telling the truth.  Had everything to his name _banking_ on this.

“All you need to do is say yes.”

One word was all it would take to voice your opinion and sway the decisions of the man who would mold the world in his hands.

As much pride as you took in your schooling while holding down a job – as comfortable as you’d gotten in your little corner of this planet you called home…this was a chance to do something _meaningful._  

“Alright.”

Something that would be felt for generations upon generations, and give a dying species the kick in the ass it needed to **survive.**

“I’ll do it.”

You weren’t going to be the missing link, the final piece of an evolutionary chain, to throw its frontrunning pioneer off the path to discovery.

“Let’s go change the world.”

 

…

 

“You _what?!”_ Anthony shouted.

You’d invited him over, and now, he was hovering over your shoulder while an opened suitcase weighed down your bed.

“It’s only for a few months, Tony.”

You threw more clothes in, scolding yourself for always being one to overpack.  You’d need to cut down, and take your chances, getting anything else you would need while overseas.

“Uh, yeah, and we graduate in a few months?”  He leaned around you, trying to get your attention.

You kept packing, regretting your invitation.  He was being awfully distracting, and you might forget something.

“College’ll always be there…but _this?”_ You shook your head, eyes glazed in bewilderment, “This is an opportunity I’ll never get again-“

Anthony finally made his way in front of you, his arms stretched out to his sides, impeding the task at hand, “And you’re seriously buying that whole ‘I fell off the face of the earth because I was busy at work,’ bullshit?”

“It’s not _bullshit.”_ You slammed the top of the suitcase down, pinning it with an elbow as you bullied the zipper along the extended trail, “His mentor is the head of the entire Colbridge Artificial Intelligence program.  She’s strict-“

“Did you tell your family?”

You stopped, taking a deep breath before confessing, “…Not yet.”

“So, you’re just going to what, up and leave?”

“I’m going to tell them.  Just not right now.”

He scoffed, putting his hands on his hips and walking to your window.  A large pane with 6 sections cut by white bars of wood with a cushioned bench stretching underneath.  Your favorite reading spot.

“You’re unbelievable.”

You’d miss it…but more than that, you’d miss _him,_ even if he was angry at you.  You knew it was from a place of love.

“I’ve known him a lot longer than you.  He’s manipulative.”  Anthony paced, aiming for the door before swinging around to point a finger at you, “He doesn’t care about anyone except _himself.”_

“He didn’t mean those things he said before he left, he was just trying to make it easier to _leave_.  It was his parents talking, not him.”  You fired back, “Like I said before, you and I were a lot different as kids, too.”

“It’s just one excuse after another with you, isn’t it?” He waved you off, “You know what? Go for it.  Go right ahead.  And when you come back after he’s done using you like he uses everyone else, I’ll be here to tell you I told you so.”

“No you won’t, because you’re wrong.  And don’t forget you’re the one who told me to talk to him in the first place.”

“Yeah, well I changed my mind.  I gave him the benefit of the doubt, and I was wrong.  He’s not good enough for you.”

“We’ll see about that.”

Brakes squealed outside.  Anthony ripped the curtains away, hissing before tossing them to the side.

Your phone chimed, and you all but dived for it, sitting on your nightstand.

 

Eli <3

Today 8:40PM

Hey, I’m here.  I know I’m early, but I’ll wait as long as necessary.  Take your time.

 

To: Eli <3

I’ll be right out.  Just saying goodbye to Tony.  He’s not taking it very well.

Message Sent

 

Eli <3

Today 8:41PM

I can’t imagine I’d react differently in his situation.  I’d be more than happy to talk to him.

 

To: Eli <3

I don’t think that’s a good idea…

Message Sent

 

“Uh, hello?  I’m right here?  We were in the middle of a conversation?” Anthony waved his hand in front of your face.

You locked your phone, tucking it in your pocket, “Sorry, he was just letting me know he was here.”

“He can’t even come to the door?” He rolled his eyes, “What a fucking joke…”

He sat on the bed, the suitcase rattling in place.  You sighed, plopping on the other side.  The two of you sat in silence, staring at the opened door to your bedroom.

There were so many things you had to say – so many things you wanted to _hear._

“And there’s nothing I can do to change your mind?”

_That_ wasn’t one of them.

He didn’t even look at you when he asked the question.  Didn’t blink.  It was an effect you’d seemed to have on him, now that you were involved with someone.

“No, Tony…there isn’t.”

“You are so fucking stubborn.”

You dug in your pocket, pulling out the keys to your car.  Removed the keychain he’d gotten you, a unicorn with a man riding it – guns blazing while wearing an armored helmet.

“I know.”

He may have had a license, but he didn’t own a car.  He and his mom shared one, because his dad had taken off with the one he’d gotten Anthony for his 16th birthday.

“Keep Old Bessy running for me.” You tossed him the keys, and he caught them in surprise, “She needs to last forever.”

Anthony was never one to cry.  He was one of those guys that thought it was a weakness, no matter how many times you’d told him it was perfectly normal.  He was one to bottle up his emotions until that bottle was shaken so hard that it exploded once it was opened.

It’d caused a few fights between you two.  Caused a few of his relationships to end.

But, just as he accepted all your flaws – you embraced _his._

Anthony was your best friend…and that would never change.

“Yeah…”

He clipped the keys to his beltloop.  Angrily swiped at his eyes, turning his head away in embarrassment.

“But so do you.”

He sucked his teeth, looking back.

“And if Elijah hurts you, Colbridge better teach him how to _run._ ”

 

* * *

 

**Behind the Scenes**

 

* * *

  

[Spontaneous Generation Theory](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spontaneous_generation)

[Written to "I Want You" by Elohim](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eQgfdN14oyI)

[Mozzie from Rainbow Six Siege](https://rainbow6.ubisoft.com/siege/en-us/game-info/operators/mozzie/index.aspx)

[Corresponds with Chapter 2: Partners (Deviant Behavior)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14851244/chapters/34422516)

_(It'd been a long three months.)_

[Corresponds with Chapter 9: System Reset (Deviant Behavior)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14851244/chapters/34597949)

_(There were so many things you had to say – so many things you wanted to _hear.)__

[Corresponds with Chapter 19: Big Bad Wolf (Deviant Behavior)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14851244/chapters/35017433)

_(Physical description taken from dream sequence.)_

_(What made you fall in love with him?)_

[Corresponds with Chapter 28: Stress Test (Deviant Behavior)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14851244/chapters/35502279)

_(Biocompontents)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Archiving Memory_003...**


	4. Introduced Species

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Traveling to Colbridge...**

othing you said made your family _any_ more accepting towards the prospect of leaving the country on a whim.  None of them had taken it well – especially not your closest relatives. It’d all been the same misunderstandings played on repeat, just in different _voices._

They didn’t realize the gravity of the situation. Couldn’t fathom that you could be a part of something this huge.  They underestimated you, or at least, that’s how it _felt._

You were fortunate, however, that you and Anthony had been convinced the country was collapsing at a certain point in time.  Your passport was finally getting some use.  It just wasn’t in hopes of running off to Canada like you’d planned.

It was stamped for 90 days, granting yourself permission to travel to a place you’d never been to.  You didn’t have time to apply for a work permit, a student visa, _anything_.  You were at the mercy of the man who’d invited you…and a metal death trap 8 miles in the air.

“Are you alright?”

You turned your head from the plane’s window, “I’m alright as I can be.”

“Still nervous about flying?”

“No,” You smiled, “Not after you broke it down with statistics and engineer-“

The plane shook, and you latched onto his arm with both hands, “What was that-“

“Relax, it’s okay...” He chuckled, pressing his hand on the back of your head to give you a kiss on top of it and pet your hair, “It’s just turbulence. There is less than a 1% chance this plane will crash, remember?”

“Okay, but did you build this?”

“I did not.”

“Then you don’t really know!”

He sighed lifting your chin, “You are _okay._ I promise.”

You gave him a crooked smile before your head landed in his chest. He held you in one arm, and leaned back in his seat.

It was your first time in first _class_. The two chairs felt more like recliners than the stiff economy cushions in the back.

You could stretch out. You were comfortable. He made you feel _safe._

And all those things combined spelled the perfect recipe for sleep.

 

...

 

You’d learned you had a thing for windows.  From the plane, to watching the tarmac through a glass wall while waiting in line at Customs, to staring out of a taxi cab as Elijah made small talk with the driver.

Your suitcase hit the back of the cab as it took to a steep decline, the wheels of the car sending sprays from puddles while rain continued to pour.

“The city is usually more…alive, than this.” Elijah leaned in, whispering in your ear, “It’s quite beautiful when it’s lit up.”

A sea of umbrellas hid the faces of the briskly-walking citizens – dressed in long coats with high collars and asymmetric zippers.  Lights came and went, washed away by sheets of water from the downpour.  One thing was confirmed, even through this wet veil, however…it was no longer a secret how this place had been deemed the “Technological Capital of the World.”

“It’s still beautiful…just in a different way.”  You tore yourself from the modern landscape, painted with digital billboards and scrolling LEDs on high-rises, “It’s a little busier than what I’m used to, I’ll admit.”

“Where we live is much quieter.”

“That’s the honest-to-god truth if I’ve ever heard it,” The cab driver – Carter was his name, interjected, “Better get cozy, because we’ve got a _long_ ride ahead of us.”

 

…

 

He wasn’t kidding.

The drive was going on 35 minutes, the urban jungle fading into lush plains of oversaturated farmland and green fields.

“Don’tchya just love the smell of cow shit to give you a warm welcome home?”  Carter scoffed.

“The smell _is_ rather…Pungent.” Elijah smirked.

You nodded silently, your phone vibrating in your back pocket. You lifted your hips to grab it, swiping at the screen.

 

222-669

Text message(s) received.  International messaging and data rates may apply. 

Accept message(s)?

**[Yes]** [No]

 

Dickhart

Yesterday 1:15PM

What the fuck?  You said you’d keep me posted!

 

Dickhart

Yesterday 12:30PM

You boarding yet?

 

Dickhart

Yesterday 1:02PM

I checked the website since you’re a dickhead.  Have a safe flight, asshole.

 

Dickhart

Today 5:02PM

Got a text saying you landed.  Are you still alive?

 

To: Dickhart

Tony, I’m alive, jfc

Message Sent

 

Dickhart

Today 5:03PM

Well look who it is.

 

To: Dickhart

We got carried away talking, I lost track of time.   My bad.

Message Sent

 

Dickhart

Today 5:03PM

You know, a proof of life text would’ve been nice.

 

Dickhart

Today 5:04PM

That reminds me…what’s the password?

 

To: Dickhart

Come on man…

Message Sent

 

Dickhart

Today 5:04PM

Wrong answer.  I’m calling INTERPOL.

 

To: Dickhart

MAVERICK.

Message Sent

 

Dickhart

Today 5:04PM

Thank you.  Text me after you settled in.

 

You heaved a heavy sigh, rolling your eyes and shaking your head.

“He cares about you.”

You locked your phone, looking up out of guilt.  Why you were feeling “guilty,” however, was a mystery.  You weren’t doing anything wrong; but maybe Elijah was irritated you were on your phone instead of paying attention to your new surroundings. You didn’t want to come across as ungrateful.

“In an annoying, overbearing brother kind of way.”

“I suspect it’s more than that, but…I trust you.”

Your brows creased, “Eli…Tony and I are just friends…”

He was perturbed, that was for certain.  He wore it all over his face, and the arm that was stretched over your shoulders retracted – lodging itself between you.

“Elijah.” You leaned in, meeting his eyes, “I _promise.”_

Your relationship with Anthony was a complicated one.  Not on your end, or his…but for everyone looking in from the outside.  You’d laid a few relationships to rest over the constant questioning of how two people of the opposite sex could be so close, yet so… _platonic_.

Every time you’d tried to explain it, you’d sounded like a broken record.  A broken record Elijah now seemed like he wanted to piece together, dropping the pin on the tracks to play a fragmented tune.

“A’right, you two love birds.  We’re here.” The cab stopped just before a gray, wooden house, “I’ll getch’ur bags for ya.”

It was huge – three stories, easily.  It had a groomed yard, and a rustic charm…

“Thank you, Carter.”  You gave him a remorseful smile, almost like you were apologizing for the almost-fight.  Your first day, during your new life, wasn’t getting off to a great start.  It’d been rather tense, if anything.

“Not a problem.”

He closed the door behind him, and by the time you’d turned your head, Elijah had done the same.  You sighed, wishing it was still raining.

It’d taken the edge off.

Now, that edge was left glistening and sharpened, ready to cut you off at the knees.

 

…

 

It wasn’t a house.  At least, not in the traditional sense.

It’d been renovated and split into four flats.  You and Elijah would only be sharing one.

One, doorless apartment – save for the bathroom, for which you were appreciative.  That would’ve been awkward.

There was a small cutout for shoes that led to the kitchen, connecting to the living room and a sliding-glass door with a balcony that was barely big enough for one chair.  The bedroom was in a corner, walled off by a divider.  The bed itself was, perhaps, the biggest piece of furniture in his residency.

A writing desk sat next to a drafting table pushed against the wall to the right, and a couch with a rather small coffee table facing towards a mounted television was in the main room.  A kitchen table with four chairs sat in the middle of the kitchen.  Other than that, it wasn’t much to look at.

But the grey, distressed wood – with its signature amber and teal rings spiraling from the grain, added a _simple_ tone to the modernized quarters.

“There is a laptop on the table with all the passwords you’ll need, including streaming services and the shared WiFi.  I just had the fridge stocked, so we have plenty of food.” Elijah propped his suitcase against the wall, nodding at a collection basket on the kitchen table, “There is a cellphone that is setup with a new number, on an international plan-“

“Take a breath, Eli.” You grinned.

He gulped, doing as he was told, “I’m sorry.  I’m just excited that you’re here, and I want you to be as comfortable as possible.”

It wouldn’t be too hard to get comfortable, here with him.

And even though it was dark, musty; starved of a feminine touch, as there had hardly been anyone who “touched” it, in the ways of decoration…

That could all come later.

“I will be.”

For now, you took your own deep breath – in a new place far, far away…

Lost in a fairy tale with your own prince charming.

 

* * *

 

**Behind the Scenes**

 

* * *

 

[Introduced Species](https://www.sciencedaily.com/terms/introduced_species.htm)

[Written to "Renegades" by X Ambassadors](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8j741TUIET0)

“Colbridge” is a fictional place, as is the “University of Colbridge.”  My guess is that the name was based on Cambridge, but for the sake of creativity, I’m just going to keep creating my own city.  Hope that's alright!

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Archiving Memory_004...**


	5. Genetic Drift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Compiling key events...**   
>  **Time_Lapse=24 HOURS**

fter unpacking and getting adjusted to a new environment…you’d slept the night away, finally in the arms of the person you’d craved since he’d left.  Because of your ambitious undertaking, even after a long flight, there wasn’t much to motivate you to get out of bed the following morning.

You rolled over, alone since Elijah had gone to school, or work…his taxing blend of the two.

 

Dickhart

Today 6:40AM

So, how is it?

 

To: Dickhart

What are you doing still awake?

Message Sent

 

Dickhart

Today 6:40AM

Can’t sleep.

 

To: Dickhart

Everything alright?

Message Sent

 

Dickhart

Today 6:41AM

Don’t wanna talk about it.  “So, how is it?”

 

You pinched the bridge of your nose, rubbing the tired away from your eyes, afterward.

 

To: Dickhart

It’s…humble.

Message Sent

 

Dickhart

Today 6:42AM

So it’s a dump.

 

To: Dickhart

I wouldn’t say that…

Message Sent

 

You'd shot the shit with him until he presumably fell asleep.  Once he stopped answering you sighed, staring out of the window – your gaze rolling in the hills outside.  Your eyes followed dirt roads broken up by stalls lining each side, a few people coming and going with crates full of produce, and vegetables.  You cocked your head.

People _watching_ would keep you occupied, this morning.

But witnessing the joyful interactions between the locals did more than that.  It’d gotten you _out_ of bed, and properly dressed.  Had you grooming in the mirror, smiling at the abandoned hairs left in the sink by your rather messy boyfriend.

Elijah had left you an allowance, in a sense.  You’d decided to use it to give back, and make the flat less of a half-way house and more of a _home._ Decided to make a fresh meal, rather than eat the frozen plates stocked in the fridge.

You looped the key he’d given you on a hook, and clipped it to your beltloop.  Opened the bedroom and living room windows to air out the place – the sweet scent of nature and wet dirt whisking through the apartment.

You took one last glance in the mirror on your way out.  You looked presentable enough to go outside, not quite as well-dressed as those in the city, and not as ragtag as the locals seemed to be. A nice mixture of the two, a self-presentation you hoped would be enough to not send up red flags, if they were the type.

As soon as you went through the door, locking it behind you – you felt someone _watching._

“So _that’s_ why he stopped answering me.”

You jumped, turning around.  A bronze woman in a very Colbridge-esque attire stood with her arms folded behind her back.  She was taller than you.  More posh, than you.  Had a stick up her ass, holding her spine in perfect posture.

She eyed you from head to toe, and up again.

“An interesting choice for a partner.”                                            

“I’m sorry,” You squinted, “And _you_ are?”

“No one relevant, it would seem.  Enjoy your day.”

You caught a glimpse of the nametag hanging from her shirt, her last name, “Wolfen.”

A pang beat in your chest, replacing the rhythm that kept you steady.  You tried to think nothing of it, but it would eat at you until there was nothing left to _devour…_

…

 

Once you’d pushed your concerns to the back of your mind, you were finally able to begin your walk down the trail leading away from behind the house.  It wasn’t too far, but enough to have you questioning your physical condition by the time you reached the open market.

“So, you’re American?”  A man with a tattered hat asked you as he bagged the vegetables you’d requested.

“I am.” You said sweetly, “I’m only here for a few months, though.”

“You part’o that student place over there?”

You looked over your shoulder, back at the lonely house in the middle of _nowhere._   There were more like it scattered throughout the area…still, “neighbors” were far and few between.

“Yes, but I’m staying with someone.  I’m not actually a student.”

“Ah, right on you.  Bunch’a uptight tossers in there, I tell ya.”

“Ah…heh, some of them.”

You paid for the vegetables, nodding at him, “Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He put a hand on his hip, looking at the next stall, “AYE!  QUEENIE!”

A woman turned from a fruit stall, “Didn’t I tell ya to stop callin’ me that, Sunshine?!”

“When ya cut that off, I might think on it!”

You cleared your throat, keeping your head down as you walked away, “Have a nice day-”

“You inna’ rush or somethin’?”  He sucked his teeth, “Go talk to that lass o’er there.  She’s lookin’ for someone like yourself.”

“Looking…for someone like me?” You swallowed hard, “For what, exactly?”

“Ask her yerself, why don’t ya?”

“Uh…Alright.”

The woman who went by “Queenie,” whether or not she wanted to, had crafted goods for sale.  She carried herself on a small frame, but held enough sass in her to keep the workers loading and unloading her product in line.

“So, you’re not one of those uptight muppets livin’ in the group home, eh?”  She hacked a spit to the side, leaning on her stall with an elbow.

“I _live_ with an uptight muppet, but no, I’m not _one_ of them.” You chuckled.

“Right on you, then.  Been looking for someone to help with my sister’s potatoes, but taxes and paperwork aren’t really somethin’ we’re chompin’ at the bit for.  Hear me?”

“I…I hear you.” You covered a yawn, tired from the change in time zones, “Honestly, I just got here yesterday…I’m still getting acclimated to things around-“

“Accli- _what?”_

You rubbed the back of your neck, “Adjusted.”

“Ah.   Excuses, excuses.”  She pursed her lips, shaking her head, “Might not be one of these twits from Colbridge, but ya sure talk like one, don’tchya?”

“Oo-kay,” Your brows raised and lowered, “I think we’re done here…”

“Loss is on you, pikey.”

You scoffed under your breath, not even sure what that meant.  It was a shame, too, because she had some interesting things that would’ve looked nice in your apartment.

_“Loss is on her…”_

 

…

 

You’d gone home, changing into something more comfortable before setting up the laptop that Elijah had given you.  It sat on the kitchen table, streaming music while you cut the food you’d bought.  You pinned your new phone to your ear, talking as you sliced tomatoes.

“I shouldn’t let it bother me, right?”

Anthony huffed, “Why _wouldn’t_ it?  That’s suspect as fuck.”

You’d told him about your run-in with the woman in the hall.  It was early back home, but just like you had for Elijah, Anthony made time for _you._

“I think what’s bothering me _more_ is that he hasn’t answered any of my texts…”

“He’s just busy, blah blah blah.  Is that what you want me to say?”

“Why can’t you just take this seriously?”

“I’m _trying,_ but I also _tried_ to tell you that he was a flakey scumbag and you wouldn’t listen.”

Your phone shook, and you took a break from cooking to look at it while Anthony went off on a tangent.

 

Eli <3

Today 2:05PM

We’ll talk about it when I get home.  I have a meeting with Amanda that will be keeping me late, but please don’t worry.  I love you, and I’m not doing anything I’m not supposed to be doing.

 

You pursed your lips, wiping your hands on your jeans.

 

To: Eli <3

I love you too.  I just hope you weren’t doing “anything you weren’t supposed to be doing” while we were together, before I was here.

Message Sent

 

Eli <3

Today 2:06PM

If I was doing anything with anyone else, why would I have flown there to bring you back?

 

To: Eli <3

Why else would she have said that?

Message Sent

 

Eli <3

Today 2:06PM

Because she’s been trying to be with me for a long time, and I’ve ignored every attempt.

 

To: Eli <3

Not according to her, from the sounds of it…

Message Sent

 

Eli <3

Today 2:07PM

I’ve got to get to Amanda’s office.  Like I said, we’ll talk when I get home.

 

Your eyes fluttered, and you shook your head.  You put the phone back to your ear in just enough time to hear the opposite end click.

“Hello?”

Nothing.

You checked the screen, and the timer was still running…

And then a string of letters had your heart sinking.

“Disconnected.”

 

…

 

You hummed to yourself, poking around your laptop – trying to learn all it’s fancy features that came with a top-of-the-line piece of technology.  It honestly had more on it than anything you’d ever use.  You couldn’t tell Elijah that, though.

Elijah, who had yet to say _anything_ over the course of three hours.

A breeze lifted sheer curtains, a bubble rolling from the top of them to the bottom, and a crack of thunder, along with it.

It was going to rain again, and you were so, so _bored._

Dinner had been prepared.  You’d given up waiting, went ahead and cooked it, following on-screen instructions.  Then you did the dishes, leaving the sink empty.  You’d found soft rags _underneath_ that sink, and had given the apartment a good dusting, concluding Elijah _hadn’t_ since he’d moved in.  You’d swept the floors, mopped where was applicable…

You’d cleaned the place from top to bottom, even the _toilet._

As the hour ticked to 7, you hoped some people from your neck of the woods would be free to talk to you, and keep you company.  But no one was answering…so you shut your laptop and stared at a wall.

Maybe this _was_ a mistake.

A pile of laundry caught your attention, sitting in a hamper in front of a small washer and dryer, piled on top of each other.

Or _maybe,_ you’d do Elijah a favor and give him a clean apartment _and_ clean clothes to come home to.

 

…

 

“Hey…Hey, I’m home.”

A gentle whisper followed a loving caress on your shoulder.

You blinked, rubbing your eyes with a blanket that’d been draped over you.  A cool stream of air came in through the window you’d forgotten to close.

“What time is it?”  You asked, tiredly looking around.

“10:30…” Elijah frowned, crouching in front of you with the strap of his bag sliding off his shoulder, “The place looks great.  I saw some clothes in the closet, and the others folded on the bed…you really didn’t have to do all that.”

“I wanted to.” You yawned, “I don’t want you to have to worry about _anything.”_

He kissed your forehead, smoothing out your hair, “You really _are_ incredible.”

You wanted to snuggle down and go back to sleep, still in a daze.  But instead, you threw the blanket off – swinging your legs around to lean on your elbows.

“I…made dinner.” You gave him a lopsided smile, “I was waiting for you to eat, but I was starving…I could make you a plate if you want.”

“You did?” He looked surprised, “Wow, I…I’m grateful.”

“I wanted to show you how much I appreciate you bringing me here.” You gave him a quick kiss, one that he accepted eagerly, “And, you need _real_ food if you’re going to keep going like this.”

He took your hand, his lips brimming the top as he laughed, “I won’t argue that.”

“Good.  You’d lose.”

“I’m sure I would.”

Elijah helped you to your feet.  You stretched, going to close the window.  Cracked your neck, and walked to the kitchen.  As you were pulling out containers with the pre-cooked meal, you noticed something sprawled out on his drafting table.

“Looks complicated.”

He ran the sink, holding a cup underneath.

“It is.”

He drank the entire thing in a few gulps in a desperate fashion, and you watched him while the food was in the microwave.

“You’ve got to take better care of yourself…”

He wiped his mouth as he filled the glass again, “I’ll have _time_ to once I graduate in three months.”

“Won’t graduate if you’re dead, first.”

He gave you a silent agreement, sitting at the table and pulling at a tie with his finger.

“I told my parents that, too.  They told me it’d be better to die with accomplishments tied to my name than live without a purpose.”

“Tch…” You pressed the small of your back against the counter, crossing your arms, “Sounds like something they’d say…”

“They haven’t changed much.” Elijah tapped his fingers on the table, “But I’m sure you could’ve guessed that.”

You shrugged, “They _care_ …in their own, weird way.”

“They do.”

The timer hit zero, and the microwave started beeping.  You took the plate out, dropping it on the table in front of him with absolutely no grace whatsoever.

“Fuck, that’s hot-“ You shook your hand, swearing under your breath, “Jesus Christ-“

You sat next to him, clutching the burn and rocking in place.

“Are you okay?”

You shot him an irritated look, “Perfect.”

 

…

 

After thanking you profusely for everything you’d done, Elijah told you about his day while he was eating, and likewise, you’d told him about yours.  He warned you not to talk to the people at the market, how they were “lowly” and “incompetent.”  You’d defended them, saying that their way of life wasn’t beneath anyone else’s…but he gave you a sort of condescending smile – one that you chalked up to sarcasm.

“Always the peoples’ champion.”

“Yeah, well…” You shrugged, “Someone’s gotta do it.”

He’d finished his meal, and you were quick to get the dishes to wash them by hand – _again_.  For all the appliances in this place, a dishwasher would’ve been nice.  But a loving embrace wrapped around your waist, and his chin landed on your shoulder.

The two of you never _did_ have that conversation that was promised to you over the phone…

But you realized it was one you didn’t _need_ to have.

Whatever came before didn’t _matter._

“You’re too good for me.”

You gave him a spirited look, “You’re not wrong.”

He smiled, burying his face in the nape of your neck.  Kissed it, sinking his teeth in your skin in a playful bite.

One thing led to another…

And the rest was _history._

 

* * *

 

**Behind the Scenes**

 

* * *

 

[Genetic Drift](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Genetic_drift)

[Written to "Who Needs Air" by The Classic Crime](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wTQH3Bxy_rc)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Archiving Memory_005...**


	6. Cognitive Specialization

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Compiling key events...**   
>  **Time_Lapse=30 DAYS**

he alarm screeched.  6:00AM, on the dot.  Elijah got up and went in the shower.  You did the same, but left for the kitchen.

You decided what to make.  Cooked each piece in sequential order – the toast in toaster, eggs on the skillet; vegetables that were cut and prepared the night before in a bowl beside them.

You turned the coffee maker on.  Put the grounds in the filter, and water in the tank.  You swiped the counter, sprinkling the loose, brown pellets in the sink before rinsing them down the drain.

Routine bullet point three.

You’d sit and talk once he was dressed, but most of the time you were too tired to even listen.  You didn’t really need to.

It was always some varied form of the same conversation.

 _“What are you going to do today?”_   He’d ask.

 _“I don’t know.”_ You’d answer.

And then he’d talk about Colbridge.  Of _course_ he had more than you to talk about.

Although, you questioned how many more lectures on artificial intelligence, the brilliance of Amanda Stern, or how close he was to a breakthrough you could endure. 

When he’d leave, he’d give you a kiss at the door.  Tell you to rest, and get some sleep while he held a packed lunch that you’d prepared the day prior.  Tell you to relax, and take a breather.

But you couldn’t.

You’d clean up the dishes from the morning mess, watch videos online while you drank your _own_ coffee, and wait until 8AM to start laundry in order to avoid another noise complaint.

Today, there would be a break in that monotonous routine, however.

 

Dickhart

Today 8:14AM

Look…it’s like, 2AM here…but it’s been a few weeks.  Just letting you know I’m thinkin about ya.

 

You held your phone, hugging yourself in a robe.  Pulled your knees to your chest while sitting on the couch, frowning.  You’d gotten into a fight the last time you’d talked to him.

 

_“Are you his fucking maid or something?”_

_“No.”_

_“What did he do before you got there?”_

_“He just…didn’t.”_

 

Things had spiraled out of control while you were locked in solitary confinement.  It was your own fault, though.  You’d tried to fix it.

When Elijah had told you to not associate with the locals, and you didn’t.  You ordered groceries through a delivery service from some multi-billion-dollar company, instead – just like all the other students in the community home.  You’d been trying to fit in, to do as the “Romans” did while in “Rome.”

 

To: Dickhart

I miss home.

Message Sent

 

He didn’t answer right away like he usually did.  You could practically feel the gears turning in his head from overseas, _gearing_ _up_ to deliver another lashing.

Instead, his devices had your _own_ grinding to a halt.

 

Dickhart

Today 8:19AM

Home misses you.

 

You’d come here to help create a better world.  To make changes that would be felt across generations, alongside a man you’d fallen in love with.  But during your first 30 days, all you’d managed to do was isolate yourself.  To fall into a mechanical rhythm of doing the same busy work every other day, wasting away while you _hoped_ Elijah could figure out… _whatever_ it was.

 

To: Dickhart

I wish-

 

Your phone started ringing.  It was Elijah.  You cracked a shallow smile, lifting it to your ear.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Oh, you’re awake – Thank God...”  He sounded exasperated, like he’d been walking fast, “I have a favor to ask of you.”

You yawned, rubbing your eyes, “What is it, babe?”

“Could you check my work table and see if I left that tube I brought home the other night?”

You turned your head, finding it propped in the corner.

“Yeah, it’s here.” You let loose a muted sigh, “Need me to bring it to you?”

“If you wouldn’t mind…I’m really sorry, I can’t believe I was so-“

“Elijah, it’s fine.  I’ll be there in a bit.”

A deep sigh crackled through the speaker, “Thank you so much.  I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You got up, pinning the phone to your shoulder while you pulled on a pair of jeans, “Get ripped a new one by your professor, probably.” 

“Yes, yes that would indeed be the event.”

“I’ll see you in a little.” You smiled, “I love you.”

“Yes, you too.  I, uh…No, I’m just getting off.  What can I do for-“

You rolled your eyes, locking your phone and tossing it on the bed.

Just another day in paradise.

 

…

 

You blinked hard, fumbling with the key to lock the door to the apartment.  The long tube was tucked under your arm, slipping – but you were quick to catch it.

“Ah, his Capstone proposal.”

You scoffed, eyelids locking shut in irritation before snapping open like blinds with a cable that’d been ripped.

It was that _girl_ again.

“He didn’t show me much of it in class, for that would be revealing many secrets…but it’s an interesting prospect, nonetheless.  Far too ambitious for me, of course.”

You let go of the key, flexing your fingers.

“Allow me.”

And then that bitch locked the door, _dangling_ the key in front of you.

“You have to lift it, first.”

“I know that.  It was being difficult.” You snatched it, “Question is, why do _you_ know that?”

She shrugged, “These old doors all work the same.”

“Mhm…” You glared at her before turning to leave.

“I take afternoon classes.  I could take that to him, if you’d like.”

You stopped.

“Yes, let me just give you – one of Elijah’s _direct_ competitors, his entire future.” You shook your head, squinting, holding your hand out while you looked over your shoulder, “Do I look stupid to you?”

She didn’t answer.  Just looked at you condescendingly before saying, “Have a wonderful day, Ms…whatever your name is.”

Your nose pulled up in a snarl, and you marched away.

“And to answer your question - _anyone_ who stays involved with Elijah Kamski is _stupid.”_

You stopped, _again,_ snorting and letting loose a cocky snicker.

“Does it bother you, when you come home at night, and you’re laying in your bed all alone…”

You smiled at her, tilted your head back – sharpened teeth glistening.

“And you can hear him _fucking_ _me_ until I can’t see straight-“

You didn’t see her retreat into her room, but you _heard_ her door slam shut.

“That’s what I thought.”

 

…

 

Carter drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, tapping them to the rhythm of a song that reminded you of something that would play in a pub.

“Can I ask you a personal question?”

He cleared his throat as he fixed his hat, turning down the music, “What’s that, lass?”

“Are you Irish?”

You could only see a sliver of his face from the back seat, but he seemed to have grinned – a chuckle leaving him, “Not entirely, but me family is from Ireland, aye.  Lots of ‘em work on the farm out behind that house of yours.”

“I was just…curious.  I’m still learning about all the different dialects…”  Your brows knitted together, “Wait, your family – are you talking about…erm, Queenie and Sunshine?”

“BAH!”  He slapped the dashboard, giving a loud holler that made you jump, “Damned if you call ‘em that, damned if you don’t!”

You gave him a nervous smile, shrinking into your seat.  You didn’t know if that was a _good_ reaction, or if you made a mistake by bringing it up.

_“Hey, ho, shackled and sentenced to the ball and chain-“_

You sighed at the song Carter sang along with, rolling your eyes before leaning your head on the cold window.  It seemed like a permanent fixture in Colbridge – raining with a chance of sunshine.

“Never thought I’d see ya again.”

“Likewise.”  You yawned, rubbing your eyes – a function that’d become as necessary to living as breathing, “Are you the only driver that makes it out to these parts?”

“Only on weekdays.  I work the docks on the weekends.”

“What do you do there?”

“Fish, mostly.  Catch ‘em.  Unload ‘em.  Gut ‘em.  Fry ‘em.  Sell ‘em.  Whatever mood strikes me.”

“You don’t ever take time for yourself?”

He snickered, “Rest ain’t somethin’ a poor man can afford.”

You had other questions you wanted to ask, but it seemed like you were already treading the fine line between rude and friendly.

“I’m surprised you didn’t take the train.” Carter wanted to talk about something else anyway, apparently, “Mr. Kamski prefers ‘em.”

It’s true, you’d needed some social interaction that wasn’t framed around a phone.  Not half-asleep conversation after you’d been waking up too _early_ and going to bed too _late_.

“Trains are impersonal…”  Even if it was getting on a cab driver’s nerves, you just needed _someone_ to _talk_ to, “Bunch of people standing around, looking at their phones.”

You’d limited your time at the farm for fear of reprimand, or Elijah catching wind.  But you’d been isolated for a month.  Cut off from the rest of the world – as numb as you were, that’s what it _felt_ like, anyhow.

“Well, I’m glad to have ya.”  Carter pulled at his collar, taking a sip from a thermos jammed in a rickety cup holder.

Judging by the amount of tabs hanging from the sides, it was most likely very strong…very _potent,_ tea.

But his eyes kept flickering in the rearview mirror.  You’d met each other’s curious gaze more than once.  He was an older man, so you didn’t suspect anything malicious…even if that could be considered naïve on some occasions.  He just seemed…off.

“Everything alright, Carter?”

He hesitated a long while before answering.  It didn’t do much for your growing unease.

“If I’m bein’ honest with ya…”  He sucked his teeth, “You just strike me as different than the others in the Stern House.”

That caught your breath.  Kept it still in your chest, left your lungs motionless, _halting_ you from taking it back.

“The _what?”_ You asked, flatly.

“That house you’re in.  Best n’ brightest students under Amanda Stern live in that house.  Seen a lot of ‘em come and go, most don’t make it to graduation.”

You swallowed hard, looking at your fingers overlapping each other in nervous fidgeting.  Best and brightest, like Elijah.  The others.  You knew it was student housing, but not some sort of gifted student _commune._

“I didn’t…I didn’t know.”

The conversation ended there, abruptly with the fragments of it unsettled.  He was licking his lips.  His eyes darted – far too distracted for someone who was supposed to be focused on _driving._

“Is there something else you want to tell me, Carter?”

His face folded, and he choked down something painful.

“There was…another woman there.  Reminded me a lot of you.  A smokin’ ember that hadn’t quite met ‘er kindle.”

The cab broke through the city line, the dirt roads giving way to a paved onramp as a barricade of skyscrapers loomed at the edge of the “old world.”  Piles of debris and construction sites spread like a plague, the illness of progression inching ever closer to epidemic level in the ways of rural land consumption.

“She preferred the drive, too.  Woke up early to make sure she could catch me.”  He choked, and took another sip of tea, “Last time I saw her, she told me Professor Stern was havin’ her do some… _trial._   Sounded dangerous.  And as soon as she started on about it, she shut down and shut ‘er mouth like she was scared someone would hear.”

His eyebrows sank, his face – somber.  But then his features constricted, draining that somberness until _he_ was stern.

“She mentioned Mr. Kamski once ‘r twice.”

A corner of his mouth pinned to the side, as if he’d caught it with his teeth.  Whatever happened had left him bitter, with Elijah and Amanda at the center of that sour core.

“Never did find out what happened to the lass.  If he happens to bring it up, if you’d be so kind…”

“I’ll let you know.”

You were reeling from the story, wondering if it had any merit.

“Thanks on you.”

You didn’t have to run this story by Anthony to know what he’d have to say, but you were going to do it, anyway.  Something wasn’t right, and you’d had your head in the sand.  A _missing person_ was a subject you couldn’t ignore.

“’Ere we are.”

The cab pulled up to a curb, brakes squealing and tires mashing a puddle into the ground.  Carter stopped the meter, turning the blinkers on before getting out in a swift exit.

An umbrella opened behind you, it’s bellowing, black cover blossoming from outside the rear window.  Your car door opened, and he extended a hand with a crooked smile.

You graciously accepted it, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“A simple thanks will do.”

He shut the car door behind you, and walked with you towards what seemed like a castle made of glass and _steel._

“Thank you, Carter.”

“Anytime.”

He was wearing an old, plaid scarf that dangled at his knees, just above worn, leather boots.  Wool, fingerless gloves that matched the beret on his head covered his hands, his fingernails edged with the remnants from the life of a working man.  The two of you earned some criticizing looks from the students and professors lined in leather, heavy fabric, and intricate embroidery.  Even their accessories seemed ahead of their time.

Carter shoved a hand in his pocket, stopping at the edge of an overpass with a sign posted near automatic doors that read, “NO SMOKING WITHIN 20 FEET.”

He pulled a cigar to his lips, tucking the umbrella under his arm once you were covered from the rain.  He struck a match, lighting it before shaking it out.

“I’ll be right here when you’re done.  Stopped the meter for ya.”

“I, uh…” You looked around, ignoring the whispering figures, “Why?”

“Need to get home, dontchya?”

“Ah…yes…right.  Thank you.”

You gave him a nod, turning to leave.  But a question that’d gone unasked kept you in place.

“What was the girl’s name?”  You looked at the grizzled old man, standing under the umbrella in the rain, “The one that went missing?”

His hand holding the cigar fell to his side as he looked off in the distance.  He had grey, barred eyes that were wise beyond his societal _rank_.  Wisdom of a world that wasn’t meant to coexist with the _world_ of technological progression.

“Ivy Hawk…”

His eyes squinted as he took a deep puff, letting the smoke trail from his mouth and nose alike.

“Her name was Ivy Hawk.”

 

…

 

Stepping into the University of Colbridge was like stepping into a spaceship that housed a sampling of some off-planet terrain.

Winding paths of white porcelain bridged over fountains, rivers, and lakes.  Plants – artificial and organic alike, floated around as students in small groups gathered at the edges.  Their discussions were composed of mind-boggling subject material and passive-aggressive blows to each other’s ego.

You leaned the tube against your chest, reaching your arms behind your head to adjust your hair.

The ceiling was a projection, a seamless depiction of a sunny day with unsaturated clouds and a bright, blue sky.  A tower marked the middle, the student guest services desk anchoring the bottom.  All around the large room, wings were labeled with golden plaques.

Lecture Halls.  Library.  Bookstore.  Cafeteria.  Receiving Center, TRAMS 1-5.  And so much more.

 

To: Eli <3

I’m here.  I’m in the

 

You looked up from your phone, a pedestal blocking the path just in front of the main path.

 

To: Eli <3

I’m here.  I’m in the Zen Garden.

Message Sent

 

Eli <3

Today 10:15AM

On my way.

 

You sighed, wishing you _could_ just leave it with someone else and leave.  You didn’t have anything to do except avoid people running into you, even while you stood out from the rest of the crowd.  So you found a quiet little corner and decided to text a novel to Anthony, running the story of Ivy Hawk by him and everything Elijah had said to you about not spending too much time with Carter’s family.

The “common folk.”

It was around 4:15AM where he was, so you didn’t expect an answer anytime soon…or at _all,_ with the way things had gone the last month.

“You’re here-“ Elijah ran up to you, ripping your attention away.

You locked your phone, sticking it in your pocket with a quickness.

“Was the train running late?”  He asked.

He kept a steady distance.  There wasn’t a hug.  Not a kiss.  Nothing.

“I…took a-“

Your face fell, eyes squinting.  You leaned to look behind Elijah, finding a pair of familiar faces.

“Are those…your parents?”

The slight hint of color that Elijah held leaked from his face as he turned around.  They shook hands with a fierce woman, one who was a couple shades darker than them.  Her hair was wrapped in a peculiar fashion, braided and twisted, artistic and modernized all the same.  The robe she was wearing-

“Yes…and Professor Stern.”  He looked back to you in a panic, “They’re waiting for me to present my Capstone idea to the board today.”

And then _another_ figure approached the gathering.  One that’d walked in your shadow in the “Stern House” since you _got_ there.  Elijah’s parents _hugged_ her…

She caught you _staring._

“Why the fuck is that Wolfen bitch hugging them?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t have time for this.”  He took his project, and gave you an apologetic smile during some awkward head-nod-curtsey thing, “We’ll talk later, okay?  Wish me luck-“

“Elijah Kamski, if you don’t-“

“I’ll see you at home-“

He trotted away without so much as _thanking_ you for saving his ass.  You were just the messenger.  Just the “hired help.”

You watched him until he reunited with the small crowd…but the only one to give you a final look over their shoulder was the woman who spited you with every glance.

Not the man you loved, who claimed to love _you._

But if you _were_ going to be the hired help…it was _then_ that you made up your mind to direct your services _elsewhere_.

 

…

 

You stormed out of the school.  Marched passed Carter, who whistled and rocked blissfully as he waited under his umbrella.

“Ey, where are you-“

You didn’t stop.  Didn’t wait.  The cold rain felt good against your burning skin, dripping from your brow and running down your face.  Drenching your clothes and rinsing off the layers of disgust that’d settled over you.

So you kept walking.  Kept pushing on through the storm, your hand reaching out for the cab’s door.  It creaked as you opened it, and growled at you when you slammed it shut.

Carter yelled at you when he dove into the driver’s seat, throwing the wet umbrella into the back.  You were riding shotgun, this time.

“The hell’s gotten into ya?!” He shouted, “Can’t just go slammin’ old doors ‘round like that!”

Your chest rose and fell, the seatbelt digging into your neck at every drumming pulse.  You didn’t want to look at him.  Rain wouldn’t be able to hide the tears that began to spill over, and no thunder would block out the muted sobs.  No strike of lightening could warm you in _this_ cold.

Carter turned the heater on, his fingers curling around the steering wheel.

“A’right, then…” He lifted his emergency brake, flicking his turn signal on to merge with traffic, “Let’s get you home, now-”

“N-no.” You sputtered, “I don’t…”

You choked it down.  Stilled your chattering teeth.  Swiped at your cheek as you remained fixated on the bustling cars of Colbridge.

“Take me to the farm.”

 

…

 

The car ride was a quieter one.  A _longer_ one.  A trip that ended in bumpy roads, and mud-slicked tires.  A waved transport fee, and a coat that wasn’t your own wrapped around your shoulders.

You sat in a _different_ home, one belonging to Queenie – the woman who you once got in a spat with, whose real name was Anna with a sister named Dels.

“Me cousin says you’re in some kinda trouble.”  Anna blew the steam away from a cup of tea, passing it to you.

You shivered, accepting it graciously, “Thank you…”

You took a sip, eyeing up the barnwood-built house filled with her crafted decorations.  A country house, tried and true.

“Carter is a good man.  Although, I wouldn’t call it ‘trouble,’ per say…”

“What would ya call it, then?”

She crossed her arms, leaning back in a creaking, wooden chair.

“A rut.”

“Trouble, all the same.” She waved you off, “So…what can I do for ya?”

You didn’t know who else to reach out to.  Didn’t have anyone else here in your corner, fighting for you.  You’d left that person back home.  Left _everything._ And for what?

“Your sister still need help with those potatoes?”

A family of complete strangers, cast out and judged by society, had been more welcoming than the people the “love of your life,” associated himself with.  They were more welcoming than _him,_ these days…and it’d only been the first _month._

“Aye.  That she does…”

She heaved a heavy sigh, dropping her eyes and sucking her teeth.

“That she does, lass.”

 

* * *

 

**Behind the Scenes**

 

* * *

 

[Cognitive Specialization](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cognitive_specialization)

[Written to "The Darker the Weather, the Better the Man" by Missio](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QWQk49xDIVw&list=PL0zUMypxys0_Cs5SmVDfosOx30UUoB_FT&index=41&t=0s)

[Second Half Written to "Prisoner's Song," by Dropkick Murphys](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nKd3Ec5YmRU)

_Carter's cab music._

[Corresponds with Chapter 19: Big Bad Wolf (Deviant Behavior)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14851244/chapters/35017433)

_Coffee-making description._

[Corresponds with Chapter 54: Marauders (Deviant Behavior)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14851244/chapters/38295797)

_Hidden reference. **Can you find it?**_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Archiving Memory_006...**


	7. Carrying Capacity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Compiling key events...**   
>  **Time_Lapse=60 DAYS**

 t wasn’t much…but it was honest work.

Being out here, getting sunburned, living off the land – it gave some merit to that meme you and Anthony had warped time and time again.

“Anna, have you ever heard of Ivy Hawk?”

You dug up each potato, taking special care to not puncture the tubers.  Anna’s sister, Dels, had waited for a dry day to begin the harvest.  She’d told you it was so that the soil wasn’t as compact.

She stopped, wiping the sweat from her forehead, “Carter got in your head with his superstitions and shite?”

You’d had to wait 2 weeks for the plants to stop flowering.  Had to cut browning foliage to the ground and wait _another_ week, so that the potatoes would develop a thick skin.  Even the healthiest plant could not be so without the destruction of **_diseased material._**

“Aye, that he did.”

Dels grinned, hacking at the ground, “Don’t know if you were crackin’ a joke, but that was a mighty fine response.”

“I guess you’re rubbing off on me?”

“Luck smiles on you, then.”

You’d learned that potatoes should never be stored with apples, because of a chemical reaction that no one on the farm knew what to call – but that it was bad.  You’d researched it, reporting to them that it was the apples’ ethylene gas.  Most of them bit their thumb at you, but you shrugged it off.

“Aye, I heard’o Ivy Hawk.  Heard she disappeared without a trace, after gettin’ involved with that tosser of yours.”

You were proving to be a bridge between two cultures that’d disregarded each other.

“Was a good idea, gettin’ some of these knee pads from that biker shop, kid.” The man referred to as “Sunshine," or Shawn, said dryly, licking his lips as he continued to dig, “Beats the hell outta leather, I’ll tell you that.”

“Wore them a lot as a kid when I was learning how to ride a bike.” You put more potatoes in the basket, making sure they were dry enough to avoid mold, “Didn’t stop me from taking a few scrapes and bruises…but I never had a skinned knee.  I’ve heard some horror stories.”

Dels, to your right, lifted her dress, her legs folded under her.  She’d wrapped an apron around her waist, but both were tattered and muddy.  Most of their clothes were “work” clothes, but they didn’t wear rags because they were poor.  This community was quite the opposite, actually.

Anna and Dels ran a large trading ring in this community.

“Stop changin’ the subject.”  Dels spat, “What did your Anthony say about that story, anyhow?”

You stopped working, leaning back on your heels as your knees remained planted in the dirt.

“He said he thought it was suspicious that Elijah told me not to talk to the same people who knew about…certain things.  I didn’t have much to say in Elijah’s defense.”  You dug your pick in the earth, stronger than before, “After the argument Elijah and I got into, I didn’t have much to say at _all._ ”

“Oh, boy…” Dels sighed, “You two still fightin’ every night?”

“Yeah…”

It wasn’t just about when you’d asked him about Ivy, or Amanda…that was just the tip of the iceberg.  When you asked him about the woman who lived in the house, the one who his parents – who’d _hated_ you as Elijah got older, welcomed with open arms…it’d gotten _ugly._

The kind of yelling, the type of fury he pointed at you…you’d been _scared_.

“Ay, look at this potato.”  Shawn held it in his hand, and you leaned over, “You see the bruisin’?  Right here?”

You nodded.

“As thick as this potato’s skin was, it still managed to take a beatin’ somehow.  No different than a wound on you or I.” He tossed it to you, “And that is still a mighty fine potato.”

You turned it in your dirt-caked fingers, ignoring the earth under your fingernails.

“Like you always say…” You shrugged, lobbing it back to him, “’The farm provides.’”

“Not the point, muppet-“ He passed it back to you, “You’re that potato.  Bruised, but still a mighty fine specimen worthy of being chopped up and cooked for supper.”

You snorted, covering a laugh with the back of your hand.

It was a _real_ laugh.  A genuine laugh.  One that made your belly hurt and your ribs crack.

You hadn’t laughed like that since you’d left home, since back when you were with Anthony.

You hadn’t laughed like that since you were taken _hostage._

“Ah…now, now…” Dels and Anna migrated to you, hugging you into their chests, “That’s it…get it all out.”

That laugh had shifted into painful sobs, and as much time as you’d spent with these three, they knew exactly why.

“When the goin’ gets tough, the tough get goin’, lass.”

You looked up, wiping your face.  You collected yourself, giving Dels a nod.  Picked up your tool, and started back at the ground – _harder._

You felt them watching.  Heard them make the silent agreement to leave you to your devices.  And when Carter arrived, you had plenty of colorful conversation to eavesdrop, disengaging from those around you while they provided a pleasant distraction.

_“Oh, I’m gonna ‘get goin’,’ alright…”_

 

…

 

 **Article Title:** Natural Selection

 **Publication Date:** April 24th, 20…%#

 

**[AN UNEXPECTED ERROR HAS OCCURRED]**

 

Defragging…

Defrag attempt 1/1: **[FAILED]**

Re-initiating Memory Relay…

 

 **Publication Date:** April 24th, 20?? (Draft; Auto-Save Enabled)

 **Author:** Vangu4rd

 

Professor Brousseau, my old anthropology professor, spent an entire week teaching us one, simple concept:

After first contact, there will always be a war…and the side with the most advanced society will _always,_ always win.  As humans, this truth is in our DNA.

From the atlatl, the weapon that the archaic homo sapiens used to wipe out the Neanderthals; to Christopher Columbus and the massacres that followed the discovery of my own country…

History always repeats itself, and Colbridge is no different.

And make no mistake – there _is_ a war raging.  Instead of spears and muskets, there are weapons drawn in the form of zoning rights, and construction plans.  The upheaval of homes and farmland that have been in local families for generations.  Real estate left behind by immigrants, refugees, and natives alike for their bloodline to thrive from.

But as technology evolves at an alarming rate, these people are forced to relocate.  To leave all that history behind, and watch as their way of life gets leveled, dug up, and filled with cement to serve as the foundation for an ever-evolving world.

What I want to know is this:

Why is it so hard for us to coexist?

Why can’t we all share this planet, riddled with finite resources, and a population it can barely sustain?

When technology _inevitably_ fails us…or even evolves out of our _control…_

Will the only people who know how to live _without_ it be willing to help us adapt?

Or will the strongest live, and the weakest die?

 

…

 

“What are you writing?”

You jumped, your fingers jumping and leaving a jumbled mess of letters on your screen.

“Nothing.”

You sniffed, staring at the flowers on the coffee table.  A bundle that Elijah had brought home with him, probably out of some bucket in the nearby convenience store.  Of _course_ it’d be too much for him to buy some from a stand along the road, to support the very people who may as well be considered an endangered _species._

“Do you like them?”

Your eyes flicked towards him, “Sure.”

He frowned, sighing at the project laid out on his work station.  He shook his head, diving back into his project.

You kept to yourself, scrolling through news of events going back on in the States.  Checked a few headlines tagged with Carl Manfred, a rising artist whose work you rather adored.  And when _that_ got boring, you logged on social media to check in on people who’d long moved on and forgotten about you.

What you found…were _graduation_ photos.

Anthony and a few friends, in caps and gowns.  Diploma holders in their hands.  Smiles on their faces.  All the things you could’ve been partaking in if you’d still been there.  He’d told you the event was coming up soon in short-worded texts, most of them apologizing for missed phone calls.

You exited the tab, staring at your desktop background, sitting on the couch. 

Your nails dug into your calloused palms.  Your teeth gnawed the inside of your cheek, brows twitching in frustration.

“If you spent half the time writing a publishable work as you did writing articles for that website of yours…you might actually _earn_ something along the way.”

A jab straight to the jugular.

Your teeth clenched.  Your tongue stabbed the roof of your mouth.

“You mean I’d make _money._ ”

He looked up, eyes leveling with the wall – but never _you,_ “Yes, I suppose that’s what I’m trying to say.”

Then went back to working.

“Money isn’t everything.  This is just a _hobby.”_

“Yes, well…money does pay for this apartment.  And the utilities.  _And_ the food in the fridge-“

“Do you need to get something off your chest, Elijah?”

His pen hit the desk.  His head tilted to the side as he rotated towards you, one wrist balanced on a knee as the other remained glued to a piece of paper.

“Rates are going up as the city expands.  I’ve had to work more, which means I get to spend less time working on my Capstone project.  It’s exhausting.”

“So what, you want me to publish a _book_ so I can make money and _help?”_ You snorted, “Do you know how _ridiculous_ that sounds?”

“About as ridiculous as you working on a farm while those derelicts out there ask for handouts in the form of _free labor_.”

“I _volunteered_ , first of all.  And you know what?  Most of that ‘food in the fridge’ is for _free_ because of it.  But _you_ wouldn’t know, because you don’t ever do the grocery shopping.”

You shut your laptop, resting it on the table.  Ripped the blanket off, and stood up.

“You don’t cook.  You don’t clean.  You don’t do the _laundry._ ”

“I never _asked_ you to do those things.  And as of late, I _have_ had to do all of that myself _._ ”

“Oh, so I’m supposed to be your fucking caretaker just because you’re ‘busy?’  What happened to ‘taking time for myself?’”

He stood up, too.

“I said I had money in savings.  You told me not to worry about it.” You punched a finger at him, “So which one is it?!”

“Oh, okay.  I see, now.” He laughed in a condescending tone that you’d learned was _far_ from sarcasm, “Everything is all my fault – you being miserable, you being _bored,_ because I asked you to come here.  Is that it?”

Your fists tightened at your sides.

“Yeah, it is.  And the way you’ve been acting is why I haven’t filled out that visa application you so _wholesomely_ brought home and slammed on the table in front of the dinner I fucking made you.”

His neck snaked back, “You said you took care of that.”

“Well, I lied.  The same way you lied about fucking that pretty little cunt-“

“You choose your next words very carefully.”

There it was – that _fear_ that seeped into your soul and forced you to back down every time this happened.  He had a way of shifting his presence, his _tone,_ into a dark, foreboding manner that had all sorts of warnings pinned in the cracks of his breaking _patience_.

“Or what?”

Usually.

“What are you gonna do?”

He snickered under this breath, shaking his head.  Put his hands on his hips, sucking his teeth at the floor.

“This is what my parents warned me about with you.” He looked up, nodding to himself, “This, right here.”

“Is it?” You laughed, “Well let me just start packing, then.  Because I’m not sticking around for this bullshit anymore.”

You turned to walk away.

A grip encased your wrist.  Your arm strained, and your knees buckled.  Your ankle _twisted_.  You were jerked around, held in place to meet his eyes head-on at a point-blank range.

His hold on you _hurt._   He was _hurting_ you-

“And where do you think you’re going to _go?”_

You struggled to escape, pulling your arm, “Get your fucking hands off of me-“

“You didn’t seem to mind my hands on you this morning.”

“Shut up-“  Tears welled in your eyes, your voice cracking, “I don’t want to be here anymore.  I don’t want to be a part of this-“

He yelled.  _Screamed._   Knocked you off balance so that you landed on the couch, your back pressed to the cushion for support as his hands landed on either side of your head.

You didn’t hear what he was saying.  You shielded yourself from his wrath, but he moved your arms to make _way_ for it.

“All you do is ask questions-“

A string of words that you picked out from the blast as debris…

But when the going gets tough, the tough get going.  You were an ember who had yet to find her kindle, and the striking stones were clicking; _desperately_ scrapping against each other, trying to light that fire that had yet to _ignite._

Elijah stopped his rampage.  Watched you with concerned eyes as the red clouds began to part, his angry haze dissipating into regret and sadness.

“I’m sorry-“ He looked around, snapping himself out of it, “I’m sorry, I didn’t…I can’t…”

This is what life had been like since his workload tripled.  One trade of blows after another, one dismantling and repair that left a few of your screws and bolts behind every time you were rebuilt in a makeshift fashion.

“I didn’t come all this way to be your _servant.”_   You shot, voice still shaking, but your mask of strength in perfect condition, “You’re sitting here throwing a temper tantrum because you, the greatest mind of your time, think it’s too _hard,_ being _you?”_

You pushed your chest against his, forcing space between you.  Shoved yourself off the couch, backing him into a corner.

“I expected more.”  You got in _his_ face, this time.

Lost yourself to your _own_ madness, instead of being victimized by _his._

“I expected _better._ ”

Watched _him_ fall apart by your own attack rather than the other way around.

“The last thing you told me about this grand fucking project of yours was biocomponents.  That was _two months_ ago.  You told me we were going to change the world, and I gave you **EVERYTHING!”**

You shoved him, and his back hit a wall.

“Now _DO_ something with it!”

He went from the brink of tears to the brink of insanity.  You’d struck a chord hidden deep within him and held it in a vice like he’d held _you._

It marked the day that you would _rise,_ an ascension from nothing to a driving _force of nature_ ; but it also marked his _descent_ into the _abyss…_

And you’d be the one to push him off the edge.

 

* * *

  

**Behind the Scenes**

 

* * *

 

[Carrying Capacity](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carrying_capacity)

[Written to Landfall by Claire Wyndham](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KL2i84EiF-g)

[Potato Growing and Harvesting](https://idahopotato.com/dr-potato/its-natural-to-have-potato-bruising)

[Subtle References to Chapter 1: The Hostage (Deviant Behavior)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14851244/chapters/34379699)

[Corresponds with Chapter 10: Shades of Color (Deviant Behavior)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14851244/chapters/34611792)

[Corresponds with Chapter 33: Just a Machine (Deviant Behavior)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14851244/chapters/36070506)

_Amanda and her roses._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Archiving Memory_007...**


	8. Missing Link

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Compiling key events...**   
>  **Time_Lapse=90 DAYS**

he personal attacks and arguments had toned down in the sense that they no longer got physical.  You’d stopped taking them to heart, rolling your eyes and blowing him off while you continued to feed him, clean up after him, _take care_ , of him.  To your displeasure, you’d submitted to his request to have food and anything else you needed delivered to the house.

You’d tried to keep contact with the friends you’d made, but life was getting in the way.

 _Elijah,_ was getting in the way.

He didn’t work, or go to class.  He only checked in with Professor Stern over video chats and various calls throughout the day.  She was resistant to him working on his Capstone from home, at first…you’d heard the conversations.  But he’d told her he needed to _focus._   That he was close to a _breakthrough_.

She threatened him, after that phone call.  Said if he didn’t get her results within set times, he’d be removed from the program altogether.

It would be your fault, if that happened.  You were the one to suggest it in the first place.  The one to light the fire under his ass and remind him he was too good for busy work, assigned for simple grades and standardized _tests_.

Because of his compliance, you didn’t mind picking up where you left off.  It was better, almost – he got to see _firsthand_ everything you’ve done for him.

Elijah crumpled up a piece of paper after ripping it from a large drafting pad.  He threw it in the basket next to him, drinking water and pushing up his glasses without looking away from his hand, guiding it while writing _new_ scribbles.

He scribed a madman’s journal, written in a scientific language only he and those in his world would understand.

He’d been awake for almost three days.  You both had.  Sixty-six hours of nonstop catering, and bantering, and _provoking._

“I’m so close…” He muttered, hitting the side of his head with the butt of his palm, “I just…there’s something missing…”

You dropped a hot plate and full cup on the table, too disgusted to look at him.

You sipped your coffee, leaning against the counter, “Eat.”

“I can’t right now, I’m on top of something and it’ll slip away if I don’t-“

“It’s been 5 hours.” You growled, “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

This, however, was a rhythm that the two of you had fallen into.

“You don’t…under… _stand-“_

“And I don’t _care.”_ You pressed him, slamming your cup down.

You walked to his workstation, planting your hand over his messy diagram and leaned to face him directly, “I said, _eat._ ”

He jumped, looking to the side and averting his eyes like an abused puppy.  It only made you respect him _less._   He finally listened to you, and went from one chair to another.

Your lips uncurled, checking your phone as you rolled your eyes.

 

Anthony

Today 2:42PM

Hey, it’s been a few weeks.  Still alive?

 

You looked over your shoulder, making sure Elijah was distracted and actually doing what he was told.

 

To: Anthony

Still alive.  You?

Message Sent

 

Anthony

Today 2:43PM

Eh…getting ready to head in to the office.  It’s already lost its glamor.

 

To: Anthony

You just started.  Give it time.

Message Sent

 

Anthony

Today 2:44PM

Yeah, I guess…I just didn’t realize I’d hate being in the field as much as I do.  When I passed the BAR, I was kind of expecting more.

 

To: Anthony

I guess we both expected more from our…circumstances.

Message Sent

 

Anthony

Today 2:45PM

You sure you’re okay?

 

To: Anthony

I’m fine.

Message Sent

 

Utensils hit the plate, and you turned to see Elijah drinking his coffee in gulps.

 

To: Anthony

Gotta go.  Talk later.  Keep your head up.

Message Sent

 

You put your phone away, picking up Elijah’s dishes and waiting for him to finish.  He passed you the mug when he had, and you gave him a bottle of water.  He got up from the kitchen table, sat back down at his desk, and you scrubbed away.

You’d expected more, sure…

But you’d be damned if this would all be for _nothing_.

 

…

 

A timer beeped, and you picked up the digital display.  It was 8PM.

“You’ve got 2 hours until Professor Stern checks in.”

You put it back down, and continued rinsing off plates, soiled from a late dinner.

“Why…” Elijah mumbled through grit teeth, “Why did you have to say that?  _Why_ did you have to interrupt me?”

You dropped a plate, the circular piece of glass rolling in the bottom of the sink.

“Shut up and keep working,” You turned off the faucet, “I don’t want to hear anything out of your mouth until you’ve figured out whatever the fuck has kept you up for three days.”

“You want to know what’s kept me up for three days?”  He stood up quick, and his chair fell behind him.

Started marching over with that crazy look in his eyes.  The _murderous_ one…like a _murder_ of crows, flapping their ungodly wings as they led him towards violent tendencies.

You reached behind your back.  Grabbed a butcher’s knife out of the holder, the built-in sharpener running along the blade.  Pointed it at him.  Motioned him to turn around after he stopped dead in his tracks.

“Get back to _work_ and stop acting like a _child.”_

That crazy look didn’t scare you anymore.  You were _numb_ to it, and had developed a counter that reduced his furious anger to _ash._

He started to shake.  A rumble spread from his chest to his limbs like aftershocks of an earthquake.  He took one wrist in his hand, rolling it and cracking it.  Let it go.  Brought it forward, and curled it into a fist.  Stared at the wall at the end of the row of cabinets.  Wound his arm back.

The hairs on your arms and the back of your neck stood straight.  You flinched, eyes closing and looking to the side.  He punched a hole clear through the drywall, yelling immediately afterwards.  Held his hand and swore, screaming at the top of his lungs.  Fell to his knees, buckling, _defeated._

You weren’t sure if he was in pain, or overwhelmed by sleep deprivation and _failure._

And somehow…seeing him sobbing and rocking back and forth, his hand bleeding on his thigh – the red _seeping_ into his jeans…

You felt the first ounce of sympathy for him that you had in _weeks._

The first inkling of _love_ you’d felt in almost a month.  The remains of the love that _brought_ you here.

You sighed, uncrossing your arms.   Grabbed a Ziploc bag, and filled it up with ice.  Wrapped it with a rag, and knelt to hand it to him.

But he’d stopped his whining.  His soft swearing.  His _painful_ whimpers.

His knuckles were already swelling.  The skin on top of them was split.

He held his hand to his eyes, studying it in reverence.  Watched each drip run down, draining in the palm line trenches that told stories of who he was.  How he’d _evolved._

“Blood…”

You blinked, giving him a flat look, “Yes, Elijah.  Blood.”

You placed the bag of ice on his wound, and he looked up at you.

“That’s it…”  He panicked, “That’s it – How could I have been so _stupid-“_

He sprang to his feet, dropping the ice on the floor.

You sighed, picking it up, “Elijah-“

His eyes and nose twitched as he wrote with his bleeding, _broken_ hand, small grunts of discomfort slipping through his lips as he went.

“New minerals were discovered in the Arctic last month, a _catalyst_ in the world of science.  We were sent samples, and they were synthesized into a chemical compound that was found to have a destabilizing effect on hormone production.  Colbridge passed the majority of it to the medical students for study, but… _my_ branch discovered it possessed another trait.”

You opened a bottle of ibuprofen, taking two tablets out before placing it back on the top of the fridge.  You handed him the medicine from over his shoulder.  He tossed them in his mouth, and chased them down with water before continuing his pained work.

“We called our version of it Thirium.  We thought we could refine it to transfer data faster than fiber optics through tubes, similar to liquid coolers in computers…The other scientists at Oxford confirmed our hypothesis with controlled experiments…”

His voice trailed off as different elements, symbols, and coefficients dotted the paper.

“But if we adjust the added amount of _this_ element…and…”

He stopped talking.  He became voiceless.  Even the sounds of agony had ceased.

So you backed up.  Picked up your cup of coffee.  Sat down on the couch, opened your laptop…

And you kept yourself busy until he was _done._

 

…

 

“It’s called Thirium-310.”

Elijah sat in front of his computer, his hand hidden under the desk as Professor Stern reviewed the pictures of his work.

You’d started to nod off, a blanket pulled over you as your elbow was supported by a pillow.

 **“An interesting suggestion, Elijah.”** Her voice came from his laptop’s speaker, **“And you’re sure this compound will transfer data fast enough to match the processing needs of your proposed biocomponents?”**

“Yes,” He urged, “I only need my peers in the engineering department to run tests with the prototype parts and send me the results immediately.”

She hesitated.  You heard her sip something, and papers shuffle on the microphone.

 **“These findings are very promising.  I’ll have Silvia start processing them immediately.  All of this will be under the legal protection of our team, of course…”** She paused, **“Is that a hole in my wall, Elijah?”**

He turned in his seat, locking on to the gaping hole before looking to you in a frenzy.  You nodded at him, and he returned his attention to the screen.

“I’ll have it fixed as soon as possible.”

**“Good.  Now, I suggest you sleep while you can.  If this works as successfully as you say it will, the next few weeks will leave little room for rest.”**

“I will-“

The call ended, marked by a hang-up sound that you’d heard too many times.

You sighed, forcing yourself to stand.  You wordlessly went to the bedroom, changing into something more presentable.  Elijah was still staring at the black computer screen when you returned, his eyes sinking, just like his head.

“Elijah.”  
He snapped awake, sitting up straight.

“We need to go to the hospital.”

His face fell into sadness, and he nodded.

“We’ll take the train.” You pulled your arms through the sleeves of your coat, “Come on.”

You wouldn’t have time to sleep, just yet.

 

…

 

You had his laptop in its bag, slung over your shoulder.  He waited patiently behind you as you locked the door, but another one slammed shut on the floor above.  Two feet stampeded down the stairs, slamming on the brakes as they approached.

It was _her._

“Why did Professor Stern just call me at 10:30 at night, _demanding_ that I get to campus ‘immediately?’”

You turned…but didn’t say a _word._

“You’ll see when you get there.” Elijah whispered, “Oxford should be done with the refinement process by the time you arrive.  The answer I’ve been looking for…”

He looked at you, and gave you a loving smile you hadn’t seen since the two of you were on the Colbridge-bound plane together.

“It was rather simple, you see.”

She scoffed, shoving passed you.

“Have a nice night, Ms…” You called out for her, _“Whatever,_ your name is.”

“It’s Silvia.”  She turned in the elevator, waiting for the doors to close, “And I _was_ Elijah’s best friend before you _destroyed_ that friendship, because he _let_ you.”

That caused a cutting inhale.  Razor-sharp edges tore at your insides, choking you with _blood._

“Sil-“  Elijah reached out, but the elevator doors had shut, and she was on the descent.

He stood, _silent_ , a sigh marking his frustration as he clawed at his temple with his good hand.

“I’m still not sure I’m buying that you two were just ‘friends.’”

“How _dare_ you-” He turned around, “How _dare_ you accuse me of doing something so heinous when you talk to Anthony as much as you do.”

He wasn’t yelling, wasn’t being confrontational – he was _hurt._   His words hurt _more._

“Unless, of course, there’s something going on between you two that I’m unaware of.”

“Ew, no, he’s like my…” Your head hung in shame, realizing you’d walked head-first into the point he was trying to make, “He’s like my brother.”

There hadn’t been a conversation to clarify the rising assumptions you’d developed about the other woman.  You put yourself in Elijah’s shoes, or rather, came to terms with the fact that you didn’t _have_ to.

You’d stopped answering Anthony’s phone calls.  Had cut yourself off from _your_ best friend; the man who your parents would hug and welcome in open arms while holding their opinions of Elijah to themselves, if you’d still been back home.  The man who would’ve judged Elijah to his face, had the two of you stood before him.

“She’s your Anthony.”

The man who, if anyone had talked to in the same fashion you’d talked to Silvia, or _about_ her, you would’ve had them running for cover.

Elijah gathered himself.  His cheeks were still convulsing, his teeth mauling the insides, trying to hold it together.

“She _was.”_

 

…

 

The train was all but empty, an automated snake of boxes slithering through the underbelly of Colbridge.  You’d fallen asleep, your head resting on Elijah’s shoulder, until he nudged you awake.  You’d transferred to another train that led into the city instead of directly to campus, and made your way to the emergency room.

The wait had been long, the paperwork, confusing.  You’d had to fill it out for him, as his hand was so swollen, he could barely move it.  When the two of you had finally seen a doctor, the x-rays and binding hadn’t taken that long…but what kept you _now,_ was Elijah’s vitals.

His blood pressure shot through the roof.  His heart rate was dangerously high.  He started having chest pains, and palpitations.  They wanted to keep him overnight.

So there you were, sitting in a chair…resting your head on the side of his hospital bed.

He pet your hair, humming a tune as he drifted to sleep, himself.

But he stopped, tucking a piece behind your ear.

“How did you get them to let you stay with me?”  He asked.

You gave him a sweet smile, the one you’d given him after speaking with him at the seminar three months ago.

“I’m your wife.”  You laughed, quietly, “At least…that’s what I told the receptionist.”

“Hm…” He smirked, “Mr. and Mrs. Kamski…has a nice ring to it.”

“Hopefully a better ‘ring’ than your parents.”

He looked at you with love and adoration.  Affection and wholesome endearment.  He looked at you like the world had shrank to fit around the two of you _alone…_ and he _laughed_.

“Hopefully.  And _this_ will hold a much better _ring…”_

He lifted your hand to kiss it.

“…I promise.”

For better, or for worse, you’d endured the storm, finding sanctuary in the _eye_.  Stuck within a spinning eyewall, bracing for the secondary consumption of wind bands and sheets of heavy rain.

The journey here may have been long, and perilous…and the path ahead may be lined with trials just the same…

At the very least, you no longer felt like you’d be going it alone.

What had been _lost_ , had been _found_ …

Hidden behind the missing link to the next step of _evolution_.

 

* * *

 

**Behind the Scenes**

 

* * *

 

[Missing Link](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Missing_link_\(human_evolution\))

[Written to "I Don't Give A..." by Missio](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vPOAG-Rein0)

[Second Half Written to "River" by Bishop Briggs](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ti45DJN4RWE)

[Thirium from DBH Wiki](https://detroit-become-human.fandom.com/wiki/Thirium)

[Thirium-310 from DBH Wiki](https://detroit-become-human.fandom.com/wiki/Thirium_310)

[References Chapter 11: House Call (Deviant Behavior)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14851244/chapters/34642911)

_“Technically, I’m making a house call.” He smiled, “At least, that’s what I told the receptionist.”_

[Corresponds with Chapter 23: The Raven (Deviant Behavior)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14851244/chapters/35224856)

_“Remember the last time you did that?” You casually tossed his hand aside, “You broke your hand in three places.”_

_His jaw tensed, eyes reddened, “…The night I found the formula for Thirium.”_

_He turned, frowning at the stain in his pool.  A deep maroon and purple, framed by white decor.  Just like your apartment._

_**“Seventy-two hours without sleep,** and you were with me the entire time.”_

[References Chapter 77: Separamus Melioroa... (Deviant Behavior)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14851244/chapters/36073878#workskin)

_The time you had together was coming to an end, and_ time  _shrank to wrap you both in a tightly-sealed package._

[Corresponds with Chapter 78: ...Resurget Cineribus (Deviant Behavior)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14851244/chapters/36074298)

_E_KAMKSI: I haven’t slept in **three days.**_

[Calls back to Chapter 3: Spontaneous Generation (Natural Selection)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18384533/chapters/43618166)

_You weren’t going to be the **missing link** , the final piece of an evolutionary chain, to throw its frontrunning pioneer off the path to discovery._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Archiving Memory_008...**


	9. Progress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Compiling key events...**   
>  **Time_Lapse=120 DAYS**

otential vendors, distributors, and manufacturers needed to be researched, and _contacted_.  Hypothetical kick starters needed to be drafted.  High-priority investors had to be noted, with their contact information and the reason for their listing.

Each of the thousand biocomponents and intricate systems within the proposal needed to be itemized.  Numbered.  Cited.  The estimated costs needed to be added to the appendix.

There were so many words and scientific terms that you didn’t understand, but by being the one who had to type up Elijah’s Capstone report while he spoke to you word-for-word, you’d learned a lot about what he’d been doing with his life.

Creating a new, artificial intelligence had been the _easy_ part.  Bringing it to market, building it, making sure every part of the “body” cooperated with each other…that’d been the obstacle that’d taken him years to overcome.  You hadn’t realized how big of a breakthrough biocomponents had been.  Didn’t even _know_ that he was stuck on the relay function – of how to transmit data fast enough to keep _up_ with his revolutionary invention.

“Blue Blood.”  Thirium-310.  It’d been the answer to that.

And to think, both of his major breakthroughs were byproducts of _your_ influence.

“I’m so fortunate that you’re such a great writer.”  He hugged your waist tighter while you sat on his lap, “You breathe a whole new kind of life into this paper.  You’ve made it less ‘mechanical,’ if that makes sense.”

“I hope Professor Stern appreciates that as much as you do.” You turned your head, earning you a kiss on the cheek.

“Professor Stern is still under the impression that I’m typing this…”

You looked at his hand, still wrapped and bandaged.

“Yeah, well…By the time this is due, she won’t even know.”

You sighed, inserting a diagram of parts and potential brandings.  You huffed through your nose, shaking your head.

“’EverGene?’” You raised a brow, “That’s the best you could come up with?”

The name of his company.  It didn’t have enough bite to it.  It didn’t roll off the tongue the way it needed to.

He shrugged, “I never said I was creative.”

You spun the wheel on your mouse, scrolling up and down the pages.

“What are you doing?”  He chuckled.

“Coming up with a better name for your company.”

A word caught your eye as you perused the “Potential Applications of this Technology,” section.

“Cybernetics…”  You mumbled, and kept scrolling.

“CyberGene?”

You snorted, “That sounds like a bad sci-fi porno.”

His chest bounced as he laughed behind you, “Okay…What about…”

You ignored him, expecting something stupid to come out of his mouth while you kept looking for another reference.  You stopped at a slogan, one that’d originally been used as a placeholder but ended up sticking, “For a Life Without the Hardships of Living.”

The two of you looked at the screen together, both lost in your individual trains of thought.  You opened your mouth, hearing your proposal parroted back at you at the same time.

“CyberLife-“

“CyberLife?“

You gave him a wide smile, and he returned that gesture, “Now we _have_ to do it.”

“We, huh?” Your smile turned into a devious grin, the one that excited him in a different way.

“Yes, _we._ ”  He kissed your shoulder, and his hand slid down your arm, “And _we_ are one step closer to _changing the world.”_

 

…

 

After a break and laying around in significantly less clothing, you’d gotten lost in transcribing his notes and verbal relay of information.  This was the day you’d scheduled to be finished, save for the editing process…and at 354 pages, you were finally _done._

You paused to stretch your hands, flexing your fingers to relieve themselves from cramping.

“I should be able to edit it on my own,” Elijah yawned, “I might only have one working hand, but you did most of the legwork.”

“I won’t argue with you.  Editing is my least favorite part of writing.”

“I know…you’ve told me.”

You didn’t close the laptop, though.  Didn’t shut down the document, or _anything_.  You sat there, tapping your fingers along the space underneath the trackpad.

“Is something wrong?” He asked.

“This is just…it’s…impersonable.”  You gave it a crooked frown, scrolling up from the cost assessments that’d taken two weeks to format by themselves, “It’s a bunch of parts and ideas…but there’s no _shape_ to it.”

“Did you have something in mind?”

“Well, no…”

The innerworkings of this project had been mapped from the human body, the human _mind…_ and yet, it was still just a _shadow_.  A machine that would act like a more accurate version of the digital assistant in a _smartphone._

“What about…the shape of a human?”

Your brows creased, “You don’t think that would freak people out?”

“Maybe…but I think Colbridge has already done that.  And, seeing as how they’d be made of plastic or aluminum, they’d still be distinguishable from _actual_ people.”  Elijah took a deep breath, “It’s an appliance designed to help people, after all.  Not pass the Turing Test…”

“Not _yet._ ” You cleared your throat, “But if Professor Stern has her way…”

“Progress is inevitable, that’s true.  However, I don’t see any benefit to creating an exact replica of the human race.”  He shrugged, “The idea seems dangerous to society, at _best.”_

“I’m glad you said that.”

“I _believe_ it.”

You smiled at him, “Well…then I guess you just have to decide what ‘ _sort-of’_ human you’d want it to look like, then.”

 _“That,_ is an easy decision.”

“It is?” You looked at him.

He eyed you slowly – every curve, every length, every ounce of flesh and bone that made you who you **_were._**

“Oh, no, you aren’t thinking-“

“If I have to stare at a body for hours on end, making a prototype after all this college business is said and done…” He pulled you close, kissing you on the lips, “What other body would I be able to stare at for that long without _completely_ losing interest?”

You snapped out of the spell he was putting you under, “So you want to _clone_ me?”

“Not a clone.  This-“ He tapped your head, “Would still be unique to _you._   But this…”  He started touching you again, and you didn’t stop him, “I’d make a _perfect_ copy.”

His hand passed over your chest, trailed down your stomach, and latched onto your hip.

“It’s still making a clone…” You murmured as he put the laptop on the floor, and rolled under you.

“A copy.” He argued.

You started unbuttoning the shirt you were wearing – _his_ shirt, “Clone.”

“A clo-ey.”

You opened each flap, his eyes dropping as his hand rounded your backside.  But his gaze snapped back to yours with a renewed _hunger,_ and you felt it growing, _hardening_ against you.

“A what?” You chuckled.

“A perfect copy.  A clone.  Chloe.” He smiled, “A _compromise._ ”

You raised a brow, gave him a grin, and lowered your shoulders so that his shirt dropped behind you, “That’s probably the most creative thing you’ve ever said.”

“Is it, now?”

You gave a playful yelp as he flipped you on your back, pinning you with his weight and hooking your leg around his waist.

“…Then I’ll have to _try_ harder.”

 

* * *

 

**Behind the Scenes**

 

* * *

 

[Written to "Counting Stars" by One Republic](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yim4--J44gk)

[Corresponds with Chapter 23: The Raven (Deviant Behavior)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14851244/chapters/35224856)

_Your copy.  Your clone._

_Chloe._

_A play on words you’d thought was clever when Elijah had coined it._

[Corresponds with Chapter 66: Detroit After Dark (Deviant Behavior)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14851244/chapters/36071181)

_The heavy cabin rocked as he drove over the curb, and pointed the metal bull with headlights as horns towards a store with a name you helped create._

_CyberLife._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Archiving Memory_009...**


	10. Epistasis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Fast-forwarding...**   
>  **Paused for inquiry.**   
>  **Reviewing segment...**

he University of Colbridge’s 160th Commencement spared no expense.

They’d prepared an auditorium – lined with the same digital tiles that covered the Zen Garden. They replicated a sunny day, hardly any clouds in the sky save for the ones they’d programmed to drift lazily through the LED sun’s rays.

A woman stood at the center podium, staring down at all who would graduate and walk the stage, today.  She was wrapping up a rather long-winded speech, one about perseverance and succeeding against all odds…

Against public _scrutiny._

She spoke of the outside world as if here, in this place, the true masterminds of the world were about to lift the shackles placed on them by society.  Like they were members of a small army she was letting loose upon the lands in a righteous, technology-driven _crusade._

“A friend of mine who teaches for the **Machine Learning** Department at Carnegie Mellon University once shared with me a piece of literature that would change my life forever.  Avron Barr and Edward Feigenbaum of the Department of Computer Science at Stanford University published _The Handbook of Artificial Intelligence_ in 1981.  I will now read an excerpt from this brilliant publication, and we will begin the degree acceptance portion of today’s ceremony…”

Amanda Stern shuffled a card, smiling at the crowd as her long sleeves and tasseled chords dangled all around her.

“’Physicists ask what kind of place this universe is and seek to characterize its behavior systematically.  Biologists ask what it means for a physical system to be living…We in artificial intelligence wonder what kind of information-processing system can ask such questions.’”

She took a deep breath, pausing for dramatic effect.

“Today marks the day that the world will no longer wonder what kind of systems may ask these _fascinating_ questions.  Today marks the day the world will get its _answers,_ thanks to these graduates from the University of Colbridge.”

 

…

 

There’d been a sense of overwhelming pride as Elijah’s name was called, and he walked the stage in his cap and gown.  He’d been the only student to receive a warm hug from Amanda Stern.  The only one who she _smiled_ in the picture that was taken of them, hand-in-hand, diploma holder under his arm.

And when it was time to gather around after the ceremony had concluded, it was Elijah’s circle that she’d headed towards.

“I had my apprehensions when Elijah informed us you’d be staying with him during those critical moments nearing his degree completion.”  Mrs. Kamski said over a glass of wine, “However, he’s spoken very highly of you and your support.  It appears we were misguided in our assumptions.”

Conversation with his parents were becoming increasingly dry.  They usually were.  It wasn’t a surprise where he got the parts of him that were lackluster.

“And what do you plan to do now?” His father asked.

You were taken aback by that question.  It was as if he’d assumed you were going somewhere, being _dismissed._

“I suppose I’ll keep supporting Elijah as he pursues his…future endeavors.”

“You’re going to work with him at CyberLife?” His mother snickered, “You’re hardly qualified, dear.”

“I-“

“Mother…” Elijah frowned, “Not today of all days, _please.”_

She huffed, taking a larger sip while staring at you from over the rim of the glass.  You bit your tongue, and turned to him.

“I’m so proud of you, Eli…” You smiled, fixing his glasses, “You _did_ it.”

“With your help, of course.” He gave you a firm kiss, and pulled you close, “Now, take a picture of me before my mother combusts into flames.”

“We couldn’t get that lucky.” His father grinned, holding up the camera, “Oh, what kind of smile is that?”

You corrected your lopsided grin.

“There we go.”

When you looked away from the lens, a familiar face was standing next to him.

“I didn’t want to interrupt such a precious moment.”

“Dr. Stern,” Elijah’s father greeted, “What a wonderful speech you gave!  This ceremony was absolutely splendid.”

He gave her a firm handshake, and pulled her in for a brief hug.

“Thank you very much, Mr. Kamski.  I’m thrilled that you enjoyed it.”  She looked at you, eyes jumping, “You must be the extraordinary young woman I’ve heard so much about.”

You blinked wildly, looking up to Elijah before back at her, “You…you have?”

“Of course.  Elijah spoke very highly of you while he studied under me.  I always told him a strong support network was paramount to success within Colbridge’s Artificial Intelligence program.”  The smile she gave you next seemed loaded – far from genuine, _forced_ on her _stern_ features, “I’m glad he took it to heart.”

“Likewise…” You trailed off, giving her a suspicious handshake of your own, “He spoke very highly of you, as well.  It’s an honor to meet you in person.”

“Yes…Yes, I’m sure.”

You weren’t sure which part she was referring to.

“Elijah, I’ve already given you a proper congratulations…but I thought that, before you leave today, I could be so generous to offer you a parting gift.”

“I, uhm…Yes, thank you.  Very generous indeed-“  He clumsily received a folder from her, juggling his commencement pamphlet and diploma holder in his over-encumbered hands, “May I ask what it is?”

“Open it.” She clasped her hands in front of her, eyes like daggers as if she was waiting to strike.

She made you nervous.  Her obvious ulterior motives made you even _more so._

Elijah almost dropped the folder, and you offered to hold his items for him.

“Thank you-“ He gave them to you quicker than he’d received them, eager to open the folder and flick through the loose-leaf documents paper-clipped on the inside, “It’s…an edit from a portion of my Capstone project…”

“Yes, well…the University and its kickstarter program reviewed the financial requirements to fund CyberLife’s initial construction.  The only way to include the facility and your…special _request_ …within the given budget was to move the location to a plot with a significantly smaller price attached to it.  I’ve found such a location, and I hope you’re pleased with it.”

Elijah was stunned.  His eyes fluttered, and his jawline hardened.  The line along his mouth creased, and he choked down the pain.

You wanted to know _why_ this gift “pained” him in the first place.

“Enjoy your graduation, Elijah.  You’ve earned it.”  She gave him a slight nod, and turned to leave.

Mr. and Mrs. Kamski huddled around him, just as concerned as you.  Of course they’d know his tells – they were his _parents._

“What is it, Eli?” His mother asked, “What’s the matter?”

He looked at you, and then his father.  His mother.  And back to you again.

“My initial plan was to construct CyberLife’s main manufacturing tower just outside of the city…we even factored the costs of _buying_  the land.”

Elijah hadn’t had any desire to relocate far away from his parents.  He wasn’t _like_ you.  He didn’t want to drop _everything_ for the sake of _progress._   It seemed as though Amanda Stern would teach him this lesson of sacrifice, regardless.

“But now, it seems she wants me to…well, not _wants_ me to.  The University and the investors will only kickstart this project if I agree to build on their selected location…”

“Where is it?” His mother asked.

“In the United States…on Belle Island…”

His nose crinkled as he recited the last, pinpointed location of where the next chapter of your life would take you.

“And…where is _that?”_

That is, if he decided to keep you _around._

“Michigan…”

And if you decided to _go._

"Detroit, Michigan."

 

* * *

 

**Behind the Scenes**

 

* * *

 

[Epistasis](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Epistasis)

[Machine Learning Department at CMU shares The Handbook of AI](https://twitter.com/mldcmu/status/999491515536769024)

[References Chapter 22: It Stared Back (Deviant Behavior)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14851244/chapters/35062961)

_“It’s up to you to answer that **fascinating question,** Connor.”_

[Written to "Point of No Return" by UNSECRET (feat. Sam Tinnesz](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lIQ_Pja3StA)

 

*****This chapter concludes Part I, and marks the beginning of[Machine Learning.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18620701/chapters/44153869)*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Archiving Memory_010...**


	11. Part II: The Coalescence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Traveling to Detroit...**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I'M BACK!**

 t was the kind of love that lifted you from your lowest lows, and kept you at your highest highs.  The kind that blossomed as you were paired alongside the newest face the tabloids plastered on every cover of their publications.  That gut-warming kind of love that kept you warm as you watched movers pack your apartment into boxes and pods, ready to be shipped overseas.

Despite that love, there was a certain satisfaction of seeing how miserable Elijah was, sitting next to you in that car, on your way to the construction site of the proposed CyberLife Tower.

It wasn’t the mob of photographers that ambushed you outside of the airport that had him sulking.  Not the newly acquired air of importance the two of you had acquired…maybe you more so than him.  He’d always had that “lovely” trait.

It was your silent answer to his question:

“Is this how it felt when you left for Colbridge?”

He didn’t mean the jetlag, or the fatigue of traveling.  He was familiar with that.  An adaptation that’d transgressed over years of being a prodigal child.  You knew what he meant.

The isolation of nearly 4,000 miles separating him from his family and friends.  The likelihood that it would be weeks until he ever saw them again.  The realization that, as his fame and responsibility would grow, those weeks would turn into months, and then years.

He was miserable because he was finally learning what it felt like to drop everything and pursue a _dream:_ a human concept that couldn’t be replicated.

“Yes.” You finally answered. “Yes, this is how it felt...”

While he was writhing in pain, you were rejoicing.  You may have still been apart from _your_ family and friends, but being in the same country was a nice change of pace…not that any of them had heard from you in months.  Maybe they wouldn’t care.  Perhaps it was that they’d all moved on, and would give you default answers to your requests to see each other again.

Maybe they’d only agree to see you because you were famous now, too.

Another worry you hadn’t predicted.

“Are you going to tell me what the special request was that Amanda was talking about, yet?”

He cracked a smile, “Not yet.  But you’ll find out soon.”

Elijah took your hand in his, placing it on his knee as the driver turned off the main street and proceeded across a bridge.

“I promise.”

 

…

 

Belle Island wasn’t anything special, save for the blocked off chunk of land that was easily larger than any other building in the city.  Elijah had moseyed off, surrounded by contractors and the like.  He was hunched over a drafting table with blueprints sprawled across it’s face while you were leaning against the car, scrolling on your phone.  When it vibrated, and the notification you’d never thought you’d see again lit up the screen, you nearly dropped it.

 

Anthony

Today 2:30PM

Hey, asshole.  Long time no see.

 

It wasn’t unlike him to have such a fiery reintroduction.  It was unlike him, however, to strike first.  You’d been _sure_ you wouldn’t hear from him ever again.  Now that he’d proven you wrong, you had no idea how to respond.  Although, if he was going to keep the conversation light, you weren’t going to be the one to ruin that.  You pushed up your sunglasses, and your thumbs started at the keyboard.

 

To: Anthony

Only nine months...How have you been?

Message Sent

 

Anthony

Today 2:32PM

Nothing but trouble.  You know how it is.

 

Anthony

Today 2:32PM

Saw you on the news.  Detroit, huh?

 

You smirked.

 

To: Anthony

That’s where he wants to put his fancy new tower…so this is where is fancy new tower is gonna go.

Message Sent

 

Anthony

Today 2:33PM

Not excited?

 

To: Anthony

I don’t know much about the city, and my “let’s go find shit to do” partner isn’t around much anymore, so…

Message Sent

 

Anthony

Today 2:34PM

Well, that’s kind of the reason I’m texting you.

 

Anthony

Today 2:34PM

Your “let’s go find shit to do” partner may have accepted a transfer.

 

Your brows creased.  You were gawking at your phone when you looked up, snapped your mouth shut, and gave Elijah a small wave when you caught him looking at you from over his shoulder.  An innocent smile accompanied it, and you gave him a thumbs up.   He grinned, and turned back to the blueprints.

 

To: Anthony

Uh…huh?  What?

Message Sent

 

Anthony

Today 2:35PM

DC is boring.  Just a bunch of old politicians who get caught cheating on their wives.  Being a lawyer in Detroit?  Well…my cases would be more interesting , and there’s a lot of money to be had, assuming I don’t get replaced by a robot. :P

 

Anthony

Today 2:35PM

Sorry for the novel.

 

To: Anthony

No you’re not.  Also, eh, you’ve got a few years before that happens.

Message Sent

 

To: Anthony

Being replaced my robots, that is.

Message Sent

 

Anthony

Today 2:36PM

I’m not.  And hah, real funny.  Remind me to bitch slap you when I get there.

 

To: Anthony

Today 2:37PM

I don’t think I’ll need to remind you to do that.

 

Anthony

Today 2:37PM

Probably not.  Anyway, I guess I’ll be catching up with you in person after your honeymoon.  Still can’t believe you couldn’t even fucking tell me.

 

You cleared your throat, cracking your neck.

 

To: Anthony

What honeymoon?

Message Sent

 

Anthony

Today 2:38PM

…

 

To: Anthony

Talk.

Message Sent

 

No response.

 

To: Anthony

What do you know that I don’t?

Message Sent

 

Your heart was fluttering.  You had the stupidest smile on your face, and you could barely breathe.

 

To: Anthony

TONY!

Message Sent

 

Anthony

Today 2:40PM

Nothing.

 

You rolled your eyes, sticking your phone in your pocket.

“I’m sorry that took so long.” Elijah kissed your cheek, “Are you ready to leave?”

“Uhm…” You swallowed hard, “Y-yeah.  Yeah.  Let’s go.”

“You alright?”

“Great.  How’s the tower looking?”

He huffed, “We’ll talk when we get...home.”

You cocked your head, “Home?”

He was the one grinning like an idiot, then.

“Yes.” He kissed your hand, those blazing, calculated eyes picking you apart…

“Home.”

 

…

 

The drive to the apartment building wasn’t too long.  You’d barely had time to get the whole story about the tower’s progress before the driver pulled up and opened your door for you.

“Here we are!  It’s beautiful, Mr. Kamski.” He spoke over the roof of the car as Elijah shut the black door behind him, tucking his sunglasses in his jacket’s pocket.

He covered his eyes, gazing at the top.

“It is, isn’t it?”

Beautiful as it was, it was also closed off to the public with a date and the words “GRAND OPENING” plastered next to it.  Rooms were available for rent, at the listing price of $3,999 a month…

“Went kinda overboard, huh?”  You pursed your lips, taking to his side as the driver and a small team that’d been awaiting your arrival began unloading your suitcases.

“I don’t think you’ll be saying that when I show you the inside.”

At first glance, it seemed out of place in the neighborhood.  It was new – _glistening,_ and while the buildings around it were lined in gold trim and seemed somewhat high class, they didn’t amount to the behemoth in front of you.

Elijah walked you to the entrance, took a pair of keys out of his pocket, and turned the lock.

“You…” You blinked wildly, “You own this building?”

“Yes.” He held the door open for you, “I had it built just for us.”

It was the second time during the day that you’d lost your breath and found yourself at a loss for words.  You couldn’t wrap your head around the words being spoken to you.  Couldn’t even calculate the costs, or the reasoning.  Wondered how it related to what Anthony had said in his text.

You were riddled with anxiety, but you hid it well.

Upon entering, your footsteps crinkled on the plastic coverings over the floor of the reception area.  The floor was marble, as were most of the walls.  Plastic plants of every color decorated the corners, and the best computers that money could buy sat behind the counter.

“Elijah…” You looked around, gazing at the ceiling and it’s renaissance painting – lights shaped like stars with crystalline borders, “It’s…”

“Beautiful?”

“Yes…”

His palm folded into yours as he guided you to the elevator.  It smelled like fresh metal, like the entire building had been shipped and newly opened.  He hit a button that didn’t match the others, an “S” that sat at the very top.  And when the doors closed, the two of you were alone.

“Just wait until you see the top.”

 

…

 

When he had told you he was taking you home, you’d imagined a hotel room.  You’d even asked him before leaving Colbridge where you’d be staying until the tower’s construction was complete.  He hadn’t answered you then, and even now, he offered little information.  Maybe it was shock.  Maybe it was paranoia, the fear of jumping to conclusions…but with its high ceilings, modern floorplan, and balcony overlooking Detroit, you wanted him to confirm what you’d been reserved to ask.

“Is this…” You ran your finger along the kitchen counter, granite and glistening, “Ours?”

“It is.” He wrapped his arms around your waist, “Do you like it?”

“Like it?” You spun around in his grasp, “It’s incredible…”

You leaned into him, pushing your lips against his in a welcomed kiss.

“I know it’s a little empty…there’s a catalogue on the desk over there.  We’ll start ordering furniture tomorrow.  I’ll let you handle that.”  He grinned, “For now…”

He turned you around, and you gave him a playful whine as he nudged you forward.

“Check out the view.”

The sliding glass doors opened with little resistance, the metal shavings in the track grinding along the bottom in crisp, brand-new construction.

“We’ll be doing a lot of traveling during the next few years while the tower is being built.  But over the weekends, I thought it was important to have somewhere to…come _home_ to.”

The wind graced your skin, carrying with it the sweet smells of summer.  Flowers, freshly cut grass, and a tinge of motor oil that was just enough of a reminder that you were now in a bustling city.  The sun was setting along the skyline, glints of sunlight dazzling at the peaks of small chops on the water.  They twinkled like the lights from the tall buildings, so close, yet out of reach entirely.

“The tower will be right there…” Elijah planted his chin on your shoulder as your hands wrapped around the railing dividing you from the city below.

His hands ran down your arms, and he took your hand, pointing it at Belle Island.

“A monument to our achievement.”

“Our?” You snickered, “It’s our achievement, now?”

He let you go a little too fast.  You bit your lip, an anchor dropping in your stomach.  You’d gotten into a small tiff on the flight when you’d said something along the same lines.  He seemed to be offended whenever you’d insinuate that he took all the credit…even more so when you implied that he _should._   It was a humbling quality of his.  You’d told him he didn’t have too many of those, and you appreciated it.

A small click had your head whipping to the side.

“Oh my god-“

You couldn’t reel in the words before they’d jumped off your tongue.

Elijah was on his knee.  One knee.  His hands held a small box, and in it, a ring that was larger than life itself.

_“Stop-“_

Your eyes began to water up.  You wanted to tell him to stop.  To not do this, not put you on the spot, not put this decision on you so soon, so unexpectedly-

“The saying goes… ‘behind every great man, there’s an even greater woman.’” Elijah smiled at you, “I don’t intend on letting that greater woman go.”

You inhaled a steep breath, inflating your lungs that’d gone flat.

“You’ve been there for me longer than I can remember…and you’ve always been the greater woman behind me.  But now, I want you next to me… _Forever.”_

He swallowed hard, like he was fighting tears, too.  It made yours that much more free-flowing when he recited your full name.

“Will you-“

“Yes-“ You blurted, choking on your tears as you gave a nervous laugh, “Yes!”

You screamed it louder than the horns blaring in the streets below.

He jumped on his feet, hugging you tighter than he’d ever hugged you before.

“Yes…”  You mumbled in his shoulder as he lifted you off your feet.

You were in a dazed state.  You couldn’t say anything else, couldn’t fight back the well that sprang from your eyes.

You thought your journey in Detroit started with a construction proposal…but in reality, it would start with another proposal entirely.  Your answer had been simple.

“Yes.”

 

* * *

 

**Behind the Scenes**

 

* * *

 

[Coalescent Theory](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Coalescent_theory)

[Written to "Tightrope" by The Score](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dptMwh2xJcU&list=PL0zUMypxys0_Cs5SmVDfosOx30UUoB_FT&index=13&t=0s)

[References Chapter 10: Shades of Color (Deviant Behavior)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14851244/chapters/34611792)

_You entered an elevator and pressed the button labeled “S,” the floor that hosted penthouse apartments; those with high-end amenities, private balconies, and exclusive rooftop access._

[References Chapter 32: Paradigm Shift (Deviant Behavior)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14851244/chapters/35300312)

_You wanted to tell her that your ex-husband paid for the building’s construction.  That your apartment had been the weekend home._

[References Chapter 71: Night of the Soul (Deviant Behavior)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14851244/chapters/36073698)

_“Lasik does wonders…”_

_“I remember.  It was the first thing you had done with your first check.”_

_He smirked, “Not the first thing.”_

_Your wedding ring.  Right._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Archiving Memory_011...**


	12. Holy Matrimony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Inquiry: "Why did you say 'I do' when I asked you to marry me?"**   
>  **Posting results...**

he doors that kept you a closely guarded secret _couldn’t_ keep out the music, or the chatter it floated over.  Couldn’t block out the light spewing through the cracks or sweet scent from flowers of all shapes, sizes, and assortments.

You closed your eyes.  Let a trapped breath drain through your nose.  Fought the urge to scrape your lips with your teeth, because lipstick teeth wouldn’t be a good look for the cameras.  You were drowning in your own thoughts, your own nerves – as if you’d just _now_ heard the question, “Will you marry me?”

And now, you weren’t as confident in your answer as you had been when under the spell of Detroit’s cityscape siren song.

“Hey, wake up.” Anthony nudged you, his arm locked in yours.

Your eyes opened, but so did the doors.  You wanted to keep both closed, to not face the music, the crowd, the lights, the smell – none of it.  You were well-versed in the notion that when a door opened, another closed.  With the fleeing certainty of not needing to explore those unknown doors, you were presented with a choice:

Perpetuate the façade, or expose the truth.

The façade of you being there entirely out of love, the truth being there was a small part of you that wanted to be acknowledged.  Wanted credit.  You were entitled to benefit from a large portion of the forces that were about to flip the world on its head.

You were here to take it.

Voices chattered, but you didn’t hear a thing.  Compliments – ooo’s, and ahh’s.  Seagulls squawking amidst a sea of viewers.  There was only one pair of eyes you cared about seeing you, that day.

Elijah smiled at the end of the aisle, red in the face.  He looked down out of embarrassment, wiping tears from his eyes the minute he saw you.  You hadn’t seen them that bloodshot since the 3-day binger that’d kept both of you awake, trying to unravel Thirium-310.

You had a very different feeling.

You put a smile on.  Let the moment wash over you in a tidal wave of sights and sounds.  But one by one, those started to fade.

“Here we go…” Anthony guided you, walking by your side as the cue note aired.

Each line of music began to separate like blood in water, the notes disappearing into clouds of blurs and wisps until it was completely removed from your reality.  The voices were next to fade into whatever dimension stole them, as if a star had collapsed and left a black hole in its wake…one that wasn’t strong enough to silence the thumping in your ears.  The color drained from your cheeks.  Your blood burned as your heart accelerated into a dangerous speed, clocking fast enough for your brain to slam on the brakes and yell, “pull over.”

There were no shoulders in this lane.  Just pews, and hundreds of people watching from the sidelines.

You’d rushed into this.  You didn’t think about what would happen.  But you loved him, and you told him you wanted to be with him forever.  You’d said it over, and over, and over…

Every pulse rippled through your body, shaking violently, as your feet met and left the floor in a repetitive sequence that brought you closer to Elijah.  Your face went numb as those thuds faded into staunched breathing – it was so loud, you thought everyone in the room could hear the gusts leaving your slightly parted lips.

The sensory loss deepened.  The anxiety-orchestrated heist took more and more, until you were left with a black, white, and grey picture with one sound, and one sound alone.  Not the clicking of your heels, not the flattening of red carpet threads underneath them, but the pure transfer of kinetic energy from soul to body, from body to world, as that decision to move forward and all the decisions that had led to it moved you with their own intentions.

And when you finally made it to the podium, it was your turn to observe.

Elijah, in a tailored suit, with eyes that saw freshly for the first time.  You’d taken care of him after his Lasik surgery, and that was a testament to “in sickness and health.”  He didn’t handle ailments very well.  He’d even convinced _you_ that the world was ending, he’d complained so much.

If only it could have been so easy for you.  To have a doctor cut into your unfocused eyes, suddenly granting you the gift of 20-20 without being stuck in hindsight.  Correcting that blurry vision through life experience and lessons learned was much more painful.  And while paying someone to fix their problems was certainly Elijah’s way of handling things rather than yours…he made it so, so tempting.

During his recovery period, you’d had plenty of time to write your vows.  You’d questioned the quality of _his,_ given his time restrictions.  But somehow, the wedding had been planned.  Somehow, the aisle was lined with floral decorations, and the walls with crystalline lights strung about.  You’d decided on the venue at first glance, falling in love with the church and its history.

It’d stood the tests of time, much like you and Elijah.

“Do you take Elijah to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

Time that passed in the blink of an eye, and the swing of a knife.

“I do.”

Through all the backlash, and warnings from your friends.

“Do you promise to love and cherish him, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, for better for worse, and forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto him, for so long as you both shall live?”

An eternity of blinks, and a stockpile of knives.

“I do.”

You and Elijah traded these exchanges, fully-scripted and rehearsed.  You’d vowed to honor his wishes, even if they misaligned with your own.  To never leave his side, because that’s where he needed you most.  You vowed to cherish him at his lows, and elevate him to his highs.  And no matter what the future held for your joint endeavors, you vowed to always help him make them better.  You also vowed to clean the coffee machine, which was something he hounded you on.  That made him giggle.

He vowed to always listen to you, and hear what you have to say – because you’ve always been that beacon in the darkness.  To love and protect you against the elements that would wear you down, leaving you frail and brittle.  To enjoy life with you, and vowed to share new experiences with you, because there would be no one else on this Earth he’d rather share them with.

Comparatively, his vows were more fitting.

“You have expressed your love to one another through the commitment and promises you have just made.  It is with these in mind that I pronounce you husband and wife.  You have kissed a thousand times, maybe more.  But today, the feeling is new.  No longer simply partners and best friends, you have become husband and wife, and can now seal the agreement with a kiss.  Today, your kiss is a promise.”

Elijah lifted your veil.  It was almost time to do something you _had_ done so many times before…but this time _would_ be different.  It would be the last time in history that you would be _you,_ and not Mrs. Kamski.  He’d promised you in that hospital bed…now he was just making good on it.

So were you.

“You may kiss the bride.”

He kissed you amidst that fairytale wedding, and it woke you up like a sleeping princess waiting for the magical kiss from her prince charming.  A kiss to break the curse of eternal slumber that’d been bestowed upon you by the monstrosities of day-to-day life.

It’d also sealed your fate, because from that moment on, you’d be known as little more than “the bride.”  You ignored the creeping thought, _and_ the realization that the only place your new title would hold any value would be in that church, on that day.

For now, you’d let the fairytale live…

It was easier that way, and it always had been.

 

…

 

Mr. and Mrs. Kamski, the second of their name, had gone through the motions of a standard wedding reception – just with the budget ending in more zeroes than the venue was _worth_.

You’d cut your cake, fighting the urge to make a mess of it on Elijah’s pretty face…in good spirits, of course.  The guests had taken their seats, and you squinted to find Anthony in the crowd as you sat with Elijah at your table.  It hadn’t been your idea to have a “husband and wife” table, away from the rest of the wedding party…or to be the center of everyone’s attention.  But you’d been told “that was the point” by the world-renowned wedding planner you’d hired.  Amelua something.  Amelua Nathan?

When the music started, and the floor opened up, you quickly made for an escape.  You didn’t want to get stuck talking about politics, or how beautiful you looked, the wedding, CyberLife, none of it.  As if he knew you were coming, as if he was the lifeline _and_ the one who casted it, Anthony had already been standing by his chair with his hands in his pockets – _waiting._ Without asking a question, the two of you took each other’s hands, falling in line with the other dancers.

“I’m happy for you.”  Anthony smiled, but it seemed like a sad smile.

“Thanks…uh, me too.”  You cringed at your own awkwardness.

“You don’t _seem_ happy.”  He spun you in place, and both of you swayed away from the rest of the crowd, “I happen to be really good at divorces, you know.”

“Jesus, Tony, it’s been all of an hour.” You laughed, “I’m fine, really.  You know I don’t like big crowds…”

“Which is why I don’t understand why you invited all these people.”

“Wasn’t my idea.”

“Was it his?”

You rolled your eyes, “I still have the receipts, schematics, blueprints – whatever the fuck you wanna call them – that made this thing happen if you wanna sit down and go over them.”

He chuckled, “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m honored that you asked me to be here.”

“Duh.” You shook your head, the two of you somewhat keeping a rhythm.

“Hey, I didn’t expect it.  I mean, you _did_ just fall off the face of the Earth with ‘an hour’ for notice.”

“Yeah…” You tried to not hide in shame, “If I could go back and redo that part, I would.”

“Would you have still gone to Colridge?”

Your chin snapped straight, and up.  His eyebrows jumped as your eyes became fiercer and his shrunk back like spotted prey. But then you softened.  Replayed the question in your head, and asked yourself why it was taking so long for you to answer him.

“Of _course_ I would have.”

The admission was low, like a growl.  Your teeth barely parted to release the truth…or what you’d convinced yourself was the truth.  Was it?

“Tonight is your night.  I’m sorry.”  He swallowed hard, giving you his signature half-smile, “I’ll be moving here soon, so…we’ll have more time to talk.  You know, later.”  His eyes darted, “As in, not in the middle of a dance floor with millionaires and a creepy scientist staring at us.”

“Huh?”

With one look over his shoulder, you saw a face you’d forgotten would be making an appearance.  A face you hadn’t expected to show, make the trip, or even entertain the thought of what was transpiring in that church.

Truthfully, you were surprised she didn’t burst into flames upon entering.

“That’s Amanda Stern…the professor I was telling you about.”  You whispered, looking away.  “How’d you know she was a scientist?”

“She has perfect posture, and her reserved seat is at a table with a bunch of younger adults that look nothing like her.”

“Hm.  Impressive detective work.”

“I’m a defense attorney.  Basically the same thing.” He shrugged.

Without warning, you were traded.  Another hand took yours – the one that’d been left unattended, and you were pulled into a new pair of arms.  It was _you_ that shrunk, and Elijah’s eyes that grew fierce.

And, like you, they were softened by the unintentional provocation of fear…of _survival_.

“You look nervous.”

You didn’t want to talk.  It would break the perfected, fake smile painted on your face.  That wouldn’t be good publicity.

“I am.” You admitted, “I don’t know half of these people, and they don’t know _me.”_

You laughed, covering up the serious tone as the floor cleared.  It was just you and your husband, dancing to a tune that you’d picked out specifically.  You’d become a spectacle for entertainment, the audience watching, expecting to be _entertained_.

“They don’t need to know you.  I’m the one marrying you, not them.  Your family knows me, at least.  That’s a start, right?”

“A start?  Elijah, we’re _married_ , now.  Not really the time to ‘start’ anything.”

He twirled you, catching you back in his arms.  It was a dance you’d both been forced to rehearse, as per Amelua’s orders.

“It’s a good time to start our life together.”  His smile permeated you and all of your worries, _“That’s_ all that matters tonight…”

When the song was over, your back plummeted towards the floor in a synchronized dive – his hand catching you moments before impact.  A trust fall, a dance, him catching you.

Maybe it wasn’t just a “song and dance.” 

“…And tomorrow, we leave for Paris.”

Maybe it was just a preview of what life would be like after that night of holy matrimony.

 

* * *

  

**Behind the Scenes**

 

* * *

 

[References Chapter 71: Night of the Soul (Deviant Behavior)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14851244/chapters/36073698)

_He was there, again, except he was no groom-in-waiting.  There were no tuxedos and groomsmen, no blushing-bride or bridal party.  No family as an audience, no priest or **“holy matrimony.”**_ ****

[Opening written to "Blackburn" by 2WEI](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q6fR61yH2p4)

[Sensory depletion sequence written to "Panic Attack" from The Handmaid's Tale OST](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lI3T0LmhpC8&feature=youtu.be&t=804)

[Reception written to "Orlais Theme" from the DA:I OST](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=azjjgRcBUp8)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Archiving Memory_012...**


	13. Día de la Independencia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Traveling to Guadalajara ...**

 lijah had proposed that the condo built on your behalf would be “home.”  A place to rest your wings, strayed and fatigued by flight – from one city, from one _seminar,_ to the next.

Paris.  Detroit.  Rome.  Detroit.  Moscow.  Detroit.

“Home” was nothing but a layover.

The honeymoon had been magical.  A personal dresser to stylize both of you to Paris’s sky-high fashion standards.  A translator, security staff, _guide._   You and Elijah had to apply very little effort into anything other than just living in the moment, _each_ moment, each _step_ taken in the city of love.

You’d kissed in the rain underneath an umbrella in front of the Eiffel Tower.  Had brought snarky jokes to a whisper when observing centuries-old art in The Louvre.  Observed and memorized every inch of Notre-Dame, wishing you’d been able to see the original tower before the fire.

The recreation was amazing, nonetheless… _most_ of the original building still stood.  France took pride in the preservation of history, and just as much in the revival of history lost to an unfortunate accident.

The food had been transcendent, as had the wine, which never seemed to stop flowing…

But out of all the marvels and unexplainable emotions invoked by out-of-body experiences, there was one night that held you hostage.

The night where you’d spent an unreasonable amount of time on your makeup, in the bathroom, wearing white lingerie made of handcrafted lace that was custom fit to your body.  Painted on your flesh by a grand artist with tape measures and needles rather than brushes and oils.

The thunderstorms had been fierce, your itinerary canceled or rescheduled…and once you were satisfied with how you looked, you put your compact down.  Uncrossed your legs, adorned in white stockings, standing from the plush ottoman resting on marble floors. 

You ran your hands along the beaded corset that’d molded to your frame.  Observed each hairspray curl left perfectly round in your hair, and the faint smell of perfume.  Gave yourself a smile, and a nod.  Waited for room service to leave, as you’d ordered wine and fruits.

When you left that room, when your heels left the hard floors and thudded on the carpet – not too far from the wedding itself, Elijah was frozen.

That morning, that afternoon, that _night,_ when he’d regained composure, when he started _moving_ again…

He didn’t stop.

“Sirvame un trago; _hit me_.”

A woman two barstools down from you sat, dropping her suitcase next to her with tired eyes.  The barman simply smiled, which she returned.

“Por supuesto, de immediato; _of course, right away_.”  He nodded, turning to fill a shot glass with tequila.

You leaned your cheek into the palm of your hand, fingers curled and tucked away.  This trip to Mexico was proving to be not so different from Rome or Moscow.

Elijah talking about the patents for the AI software being used, and doing his best to sell them to investors…you, waiting somewhere, talking to the other women who didn’t matter, as if you were all children that were sent to entertain themselves.  Moscow, at least, provided a show.  Elijah fighting with Russian soldiers to prove his “tenacity” to the Russian prime minister was an interesting change of pace.

In Guadalajara, you’d escaped the flock.  Had nothing else to contribute to a room full of women who spoke to each other, ignoring you altogether.

This woman, dressed in a silk blouse with cutoff sleeves, dress pants, and flats, seemed to have her own agenda.  One that did _not_ involve fanning her feathers in a circle of her dress and jewelry-wearing counterparts.  The two of you shared that notion.

“Aqui tienes; _here you go._ ” The barman delivered what looked like a decorated shot of tequila.

“Gracias.” The woman knocked it back, “Otro, por favor; _another, please_.”

Your brows hiked as you turned away, not wanting to be rude and stare.

“I am the wife of an investor.”  The woman turned her head, one brown iris peeking through a gap of her short, choppy dark hair, “¿Y tú?; _and you?”_

You drew a long, heavy sigh, downing the rest of _your_ drink before setting the glass on the counter.

“The wife of the _presenter…_ ” Your voice went low and resentful at the last word.

“Ah…the elusive Señora Kamski.” She leaned an elbow on the bar, facing her body towards you and crossing her legs, “We’ve been in a few ‘who wore it better’ articles in those derelict magazines, you know.”

“Derelict magazines?”

“Eh, you know…perhaps it is not the right word…” She pinched her chin before snapping her fingers, “Trashy.  Yes, trashy magazines.  ¿Si?”

You flashed a grin, “Yes, that’s the one.”

“Bien, bien…Of course, you always win.  I’m not one for these things.”  She took another shot, and ordered two afterwards.

“It is almost sad…no?  How these men galivant around, pretending to be in power.”

She slid you a shot, and raised her own.  You looked at it with skepticism, but held it to her glass nonetheless.

“Often I find that, the real genius lies in the woman _behind_ the man.”

Your timidity melted with your apprehensions, and you shared a drink with the woman who was married to an investor that _your_ husband was selling his ideas to…or was _trying_ to.

“Come.” The woman’s elbow unfolded, holding a black credit card to the barman as she spoke to you, “We have two hours until the presentation is concluded…”

The barman smiled at her and bowed his head slightly as she signed the receipt, giving him a wink.

“Let me show you what el Ciudad de Guadalajara has to offer _you._ ”

You smirked, “Aren’t _you_ supposed to be the one investing?”

“Like I said, my husband is the investor.  Yours is the presenter.  They are separate from us.  We do not have to follow in their steps.”  She held out a hand, and you took it.

“You’re the first person I’ve let buy me a drink and take me out without first knowing your name.” You grinned.

  
“Forgive me.”  She held the door open, leading to a busy and bustling street under the hot sun.

You usually weren’t up for this sort of adventure.   In fact, this sort of behavior was what the travel guides and Elijah himself had warned _against._   Maybe it was the boredom, maybe it was the tequila.

Maybe it was her charm.

“My name is Elena Álvarez, profesora de arqueología a la Academia de Inteligencia Artificial.  But today…today, I am just Elena.” She smiled, locking your arm in hers, “And today, you are just _you.”_

…

 

You’d left that lounge in a fancy outfit with shoes that barely fit, but matched the dress you were forced to wear too well to replace.  You’d left with very little knowledge of the country, or _city_ you were visiting on behalf of your husband.  You’d arrived as an accessory of that man, just a plus one on the event card without a nametag at the table.

You’d left somewhat _sober._

But after a shopping trip that had you feeling much more like yourself; after a few more rounds at a much more local bar, screaming and cheering among the locals at a 20-year old TV broadcasting the Mexican qualifier for the World Cup; after a pop-up thunderstorm and walking through flooded streets under Elena’s jacket, a makeshift umbrella that more than likely cost hundreds of dollars…

The two of you were finally bound by obligations to return to that lounge, both soaking wet, giggling, and stumbling your way back to your seats with bags hanging off your arms.  The only issue was that the lounge was now filled with men in suits during cocktail hour, their wives hanging off their arms.  Both parties involved shot you dirty looks when you would bump into them, laughing under your breath while looking at your equally-as-guilty partner in crime.

You were drier than Elena, whose hair began to dry while her clothes still clung to her skin.  She held her jacket over her shoulder with her fingers, her other hand shoved in the pocket of her ankle-length dress pants.

“That was quite the adventure.  Perhaps you are not the guiri I once thought you to be.”

“Gui-what?”

 **“There** you are…”

Your shoulders went stiff, hunched over the bar stool where your bags rested where you once sat.  A strong hand gripped your bicep, a harsh _whisper_ gripping your attention.

“I’ve been looking all over for…” He sniffed, “Is that… _tequila?”_

“¡Ahí estás, mi reina!; _There you are, my queen!”_

You shied away from the wolfish, steel-grey stare boring into you, turning to find Elena in the loving arms of her husband.

Elijah put the mask on, and let you go.  Elena’s husband may have missed the whole conflict, but judging by the deadly gaze coming from her, Elena herself did _not._

The two men talked, and talked, and _talked…_ and Elena just stared at you.  Her expressions were a mixture of confusion, sympathy, anger, and something unknown that looked a lot like remorse.

“So, Señor Álvarez…do we have a deal, then?”

“Ah, yes.  The deal.”  He patted his face with a cloth, taking the hand that held his arm secure in his own, “I am sorry, Señor Kamski, but I must consult with my wife.  It will only be but a moment.”

Her body turned before her neck did as she was pulled away by her husband.

“Heh, your wife…” Elijah looked down at you, “Of course.”

“Eli, look, I didn’t-“

“Now isn’t the time.” He shut you up, “We’ll talk about your _escapades_ when we get back to the hotel.”

“What are you, my fucking _dad?”_

He whispered your name through grit teeth, “What’s gotten into you?”

“Maybe a little independence.” Your neck snaked, “Wouldn’t that be just, fucking, _terrible?”_

A loud sound of a clearing throat pulled your attention back to the woman you’d spent the afternoon with.  Although, the picture had been painted differently.

Elena’s husband was holding her soaking-wet jacket, each end laid across extended arms as if she’d put it there.  Her hands were in her pockets, teeth pinching the inside of one cheek as she eyed up Elijah from head to toe.

“My time with your wife proved to be quite enlightening, Señor Kamski.”  Her head cocked the opposite direction, a lopsided grin following the motion, “We spoke about artificial intelligence.  We spoke of conquerors, and legends.  Trees of life, and trees of death.  And, I have to say, when I asked questions about what you were selling, she was more than forthcoming with the right information.”

You gulped in terror, the hand holding yours squeezing just a little harder.

“Do you know what I base my investments on, Señor Kamski?”

And then that hand let go a bit.

“I’m sorry, _your_ invest-“

“Honesty.”  She put her head down, pacing to the left, revealing one hand to move as she spoke, “This may seem…hypocritical.” She squinted at you, voice lowering, “Is it hypocritical?  The word-“

“Yes, that’s the right word.” You nodded quickly, like a little girl being addressed while on time out.

“My husband and I were not honest about our roles.  And yet, because of your wife’s honesty and willingness to break the mold, I have decided to accept your terms and will pass the proper financial agreements to my team of investors.”

“I…” Elijah began to sweat, “I’m…sorry, Mrs. Álvarez…”

Her brows jumped over a condescending smirk at the sound of her name.

“Pardon me if I seem…confused.”

“Allow me to clarify, then.”  She took another step towards him, facial features hardening, “I am the investor, not my husband.  The internet told me everything I needed to know about your technology and what it is that you are selling.  But your wife…your wife showed me what I cannot find with a simple search.  She allowed me to see your character.”  She took in a breath, letting it out, “I do not like you, ‘Mr.’ Kamski, though it appears I am quite fond of your wife.  If she sees the good in you, then I am no one to question her judgement.  It is because of this that I have decided to invest in your project, and help kickstart the company _both_ of you have built from earth to sky.”

That condescending smile on her face grew as Elijah was frozen in a much different manner than on your honeymoon.

“Is there any other question I can answer for you, Señor?”

“No…no, I think that about covers it.”

She chuckled, eyes sharpening as her gaze pierced your concentration on containing your excitement.

“Esta bien.”

 

* * *

 

**Behind the Scenes**

 

* * *

 

[Written to "La Bruja"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cKRZegvdIDM)

 

[References Chapter 13: Birds of a Feather (Deviant Behavior)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14851244/chapters/34696424#main)

_“’Alas, only birds strayed and fatigued by flight, now let themselves be captured with our hand.’”_

 

[References Chapter 22: It Stared Back (Deviant Behavior)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14851244/chapters/35062961)

_“Do you remember our honeymoon, in Paris?  Watching the stars, standing on top of that high rise.  The entire afternoon spent in bed the day after…”_

[References Chapter 45: Pavlov's Dog (Deviant Behavior)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14851244/chapters/37666031)

_An archeologist in Guadalajara retold horror stories of the “tree of death” when you and Elijah had visited an artificial intelligence seminar in Mexico.  Professor Álvarez, a woman who’d relocated from Madrid.  You’d shared drinks with her in the lounge instead of accompanying your husband in the lecture hall – an event put together just for him._

 

[References Chapter 73: Pandora (Deviant Behavior)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14851244/chapters/42871352)

_They sought to impress him with a strong show of Russian force.  A training exercise of combat protocols and counterattack techniques.  And after this display was completed, after Elijah had been included in the drill, he’d asked the Russian President why he’d been invited to participate in a rigorous session on a muddied, permafrost training ground._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Archiving Memory_013...**


	14. Chronological Guide to Natural Selection and Machine Learning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This list will update with each chapter. It will also be cross-posted in Machine Learning to prevent confusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Machine Learning chapters in **Bold.**

  1. [Part I: The Modern Synthesis](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18384533/chapters/43536062)
  2. [Radioactive Dating](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18384533/chapters/43617929)
  3. [Spontaneous Generation](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18384533/chapters/43618166)
  4. [Introduced Species](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18384533/chapters/43685078)
  5. [Genetic Drift](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18384533/chapters/43685081)
  6. [Cognitive Specialization](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18384533/chapters/43843531)
  7. [Carrying Capacity](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18384533/chapters/43922746)
  8. [Missing Link](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18384533/chapters/43922983)
  9. [Progress](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18384533/chapters/43923070)
  10. [Epistasis](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18384533/chapters/43923271)
  11. **[Disclaimer](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18620701/chapters/44153869)**
  12. **[Dogs of War](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18620701/chapters/44744713)**
  13. [Part II: The Coalescence](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18384533/chapters/43923307)
  14. **[Heaven's Gates](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18620701/chapters/44500156)**
  15. **[Wrath of God](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18620701/chapters/45053926#main)**
  16. **[Sundown](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18620701/chapters/45054220)**
  17. **[The Manifest](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18620701/chapters/45053878#main)**
  18. [Holy Matrimony](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18384533/chapters/43923355)
  19. [Dia de la Independencia](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18384533/chapters/43923493)



**Author's Note:**

>  **Join the conversation** in the [Deviant Behavior Discord](https://discordapp.com/invite/X8AmNQn) (now with over 200 members) to say hi to myself, the betas, other members of the Detroit: Become Human community, play with the bot, or shamelessly lurk (which, let's be honest, that's what Discord is for)
> 
> [Natural Selection Playlist](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8LWlgvr4ti8&list=PL0zUMypxys0_Cs5SmVDfosOx30UUoB_FT)
> 
> [Machine Learning Trailer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=avC6QhpwpEA)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Shallow](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18492079) by [TheAmeliaNathan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAmeliaNathan/pseuds/TheAmeliaNathan)




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